Being Jason White
by Alphie
Summary: A history of what it was like for Jason as he grew up and uncovered all the secrets his life held. Companion to In the Shadow of My Father. Age 28: The House of El- Jason comes full circle. THIS STORY IS NOW COMPLETE.
1. Age 6: Keeping Secrets

_AN:Here's the deal…Jason won't leave me alone. I don't want to mess with him, but he will NOT get out of my head. I created such a tortured life for him in Shadow of My Father that I had to come up with a huge amount of backstory just to make it work. I thought once I got that out of my head that he would leave me alone, but no. He wants more. Which brings me back to Superman fan fiction even when I said I wouldn't write any more. _

_So this fic is the backstory to my other fic In the Shadow of My Father, detailing just how Jason's relationship with Sups developed and eventually crumbled. I've got about 20 or so chapters planned that I could write to flesh out the whole messy story, but I'm going to be watching to see how well the story is received and then decide if I want to just do the first few chapters or go the whole distance. Let me know your thoughts when you leave a review. At this point in the story, you don't need to have read In the Shadow of My Father to understand what's going on. However, if I do continue all the way through, you will need to read it or else this fic won't make any sense. All you need to understand right now is that Jason has no idea Sups is his father. _

_Thanks go to htbthomas for the beta. How she beta reads EVERYTHING and still writes her own amazing story is beyond me. I think we can all agree that she is the current reigning queen of Superman fan fiction._

**Age 6 – Keeping Secrets**

When Mommy said we had to go to the _Planet_, she wasn't talking about Mars or Saturn or even Krypton. She meant we had to go to work. Blech. Not my favorite place in the world, but what else could I do? I don't think Mommy is allowed to leave me alone.

When the elevator doors opened on the fifteenth floor, Mommy gave my hand a squeeze. She smiled at me before we walked into the newsroom. It wasn't fun here, and she knew that I didn't like it, but she kept bringing me here anyway. I knew Mommy and Daddy thought the news was lots of fun, but to me it was just boring.

Well, most of the time it was boring. If it was about Superman, then it wasn't boring.

Mommy must have been in a hurry to get to her desk because she walked pretty fast. We passed Mr. Clark's desk so quickly that I hardly even had a chance to say hello. I waved at him, and he waved back. So cool! Superman waved at me!

I didn't understand why everyone made a fuss over Superman when he was dressed in blue, but no one made a fuss over Mr. Clark when he was dressed in a suit. Especially Mommy. Mommy knew Superman better than anyone, so why doesn't she talk to Mr. Clark very much? Maybe I should ask him.

"Stay here, munchkin, and don't bother anyone. I'll be right back," Mommy said as she headed off to Uncle Perry's office, leaving me all alone at her desk. I knew she would be gone for a while.

I looked over my shoulder at Mr. Clark. He smiled at me again. He was so nice. Mommy said not to bother anyone, but Mr. Clark never minded when I talked to him. I took off my coat and sat it down in mommy's chair.

"Hi, Mr. Clark," I said, wandering over to his desk.

"Hi, Jason," he said, rumpling my hair. "How are you today?"

I shrugged. "I wanted to go to the park, but mommy says it's too cold and that I'll get sick."

"Well, it_ is_ kind of cold outside."

I shrugged again. "I still want to go to the park. There are kids there, and there aren't any here."

He tilted his head to the side. "Do you like tag or hide-and-go-seek better?"

"Hide and seek. There's too much running in tag and I always end up coughing."

He looked sad. "I'm sorry about that."

"It's okay. It's not your fault I have asthma."

Shaking his head, he said, "That doesn't mean I don't feel badly about it. You should be able to run and play like all the other kids."

"I do!" I explained. "I love the playground!"

He bit his lip. "Which is your favorite: the swings or the slide?"

"Swings!" I said with excitement. "When I go high, I feel like I'm flying."

His eyebrows went up. "You like flying?"

"Sure I do. Don't you?"

He nodded slowly. "Yes, I do."

"Maybe we could go flying sometime," I offered.

He frowned. "Well, I'm not sure if Richard will go for that, but maybe if we—"

He was so silly sometimes! "I'm not talking about flying in a plane."

His eyes squinted at me. "What do you mean? How else would we…well…fly?"

"I dunno how you fly. You just do."

"Jason?" he said quietly. "You think…I can…fly?"

"Duh."

Looking very confused, he rested his elbows on his knees and brought his face closer to mine. "I don't have a pilot's license, so I don't know why you think I can fly."

I rolled my eyes. "You don't need a plane. You're Super—"

"Shhh!" His hand gently covered my mouth and stopped me from saying more. "How do you…how did you…?" He glanced around the room nervously until he saw Mommy. "We can't talk here," he mumbled.

"Ah, Lois?" he said standing up. "Lois? Could I um…could I…?"

Mommy turned around, looking frustrated. "Oh, Jason, I told you not to bother anyone."

"No, he's no bother. Really. He's not bothering me at all." Mr. Clark patted my shoulder. "I just thought…well… gosh…maybe he'd like a – a – a soda…or something." He pushed his glasses up on his nose. "I just wanted to make sure it was all right with you if I took Jason…to get…a soda." He was using his Mr. Clark voice right now. It was higher and squeakier than Superman's voice.

"I suppose so," Mommy said, looking a bit skeptical. "Nothing with caffeine though."

"Right," Mr. Clark said with a nod. "Jason," he looked down at me. "Let's go get a soda."

He led me down the hall to the break room where he bought me a can of Sprite. I thanked him and took a big gulp. The bubbles tickled my nose. I watched him as he closed the door and pulled out a chair to sit in. He looked worried, which made me worried. Did I say something wrong? Had I done something that made him angry at me?

He leaned forward, that same worried look on his face. "So…how did you know?"

I shrugged. "I saw your picture on TV. I thought…I mean…doesn't everyone know?"

"No, Jason. No one knows."

"Well, I figured that Mommy didn't know, 'cause she acts crazy around you when you're Superman, but she hardly talks to you when you are Mr. Clark."

He made a sad face. "You're right. Lois doesn't know."

"Why not? I don't understand. Wouldn't it be easier for you to help people if your friends knew you could help them?"

He smiled. "It seems that way, doesn't it? But Jason, this has to stay a secret. If someone found out…"

He didn't finish. "What? Would something bad happen?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Superman gets a lot of attention, and Clark doesn't. There are times when I'm very glad that I can just be Clark and no one knows who I am."

"But _I _know!"

He nodded. "I realize that." His eyes squinted again. "How long have you known?"

I looked down at the floor. "Since right before you saved us from the bald man who wanted to hurt us." I said it really quietly. I didn't like talking about that. I didn't like thinking about what happened. About what I did.

"Jason," he said softly, putting a hand on my shoulder. "That bald man is part of the reason why this has to stay our secret. You can't tell anyone." He looked at me right in the eyes. "When I'm Clark, you can't talk to me about Superman. And when I'm Superman, you can't talk to me about Clark. Understand?"

I nodded, suddenly very afraid. "You're not mad at me, are you?"

"No. Why would I be mad?"

I shrugged. "It sounds like you don't like it when people know."

He put both hands on my shoulders now. "Jason, I'm not mad at you. In a way… I'm kind of glad that you know."

"Really?"

He smiled. "You just can't tell anyone."

I shook my head. "I won't." I swallowed hard. "Will you still come visit me at night?"

His eyes went wide for a moment. "You know about that, too?"

I nodded.

"I don't have as many secrets as I thought I had, huh?" he mumbled.

"Is it a secret that you visit me?"

"Yes." He sounded very serious.

"Why?"

"Because…" His voice became deep. It was the Superman voice. "You're very important to me, Jason. I don't want you to get hurt because you're… because of me."

"Why would anyone want to hurt me?"

"Because of our… relationship."

"You mean because I know your secret?"

"Something like that."

I didn't really understand, but I would keep it a secret anyway.

Someone knocked on the door.

"Hey, you two." It was Mommy. She had my coat in her hands. "What's going on in here?"

Mr. Clark nearly jumped to his feet. "Lois, we were just um… Jason was… um…"

"Thanks for watching him, Clark. I know he can be a menace sometimes." She held out her hand to me and waited for me to take it.

"Mr. Clark?" I said, looking up at him. "Thanks for the soda."

"You're very welcome, Jason."

"Yeah, thanks, Clark," Mommy added. "Now, come on, Munchkin."

But I wasn't done yet. I needed Mr. Clark to know I was going to keep his secret. But I couldn't really say anything in front of Mommy. That was part of the deal, right?

So I hugged him instead. I hugged his legs and he patted me on the back.

Mommy looked confused. "Jason?"

"I'm ready to go now," I said, slipping into my coat and taking her hand.

As we walked back to the elevator, mommy asked, "So you like hanging around Clark, huh?"

"Yeah, he's really nice." Then I had an idea. "Maybe he could watch me sometime when you and Daddy are busy?"

Mommy frowned at me. "I don't know about that. We'll have to see."

Just the idea of having Superman as a babysitter made me want to jump up and down with excitement. But I had to keep that a secret. It was our secret. Mr. Clark's and mine. And I felt special for knowing it. I felt special because he trusted me.

Later that night, when he visited my window, I didn't hesitate to sit up in bed and wave at him. He waved back and then held a finger to his lips, telling me to stay quiet. Then he pointed at me and then put his head on his hands like a pillow, mouthing the words, _You go back to sleep._

I nodded and lay back down on my pillow. "Good night!" I said to him before he flew away from the house, leaving me with his secret. _Our_ secret, he had called it. I liked the sound of that.


	2. Age 7: Forever Hold Your Peace

_AN: Thanks to those of you who left a review. Over 200 hits, but only 10 reviews. I figured some of you were going to wait and see where I was going with this. So now Jason is seven. If you read Shadow of my Father, there is a scene when he goes flying with Superman told in a flashback. That scene happened when he was seven, so you could consider that part of the story. _

_Many thanks to htbthomas for the beta and for her encouragement. Eviefan, DragonFlame27, Leigh1986, AgiVega, Saavikam77, mistressbabette51, Shadeslayer 390, MrsMosley, and Hellish… I'm continuing this for you!_

**Age 7 – Forever Hold Your Peace**

"There, you look cute. How're you doing?" Daddy asked me, fixing my bow tie and flattening down my hair.

"I'm great." But I didn't like being called cute. "What happens if I fall when I'm walking with Mommy?"

"You won't fall. So, don't be nervous. Just go really slowly and take it one step at a time."

I nodded. "How are _you_ doing?"

"I'm… good. Nervous, but good." He looked nervous.

"Why are you nervous?" It seemed strange to me that Daddy would be nervous about anything. He was always so sure about everything.

"Just… the wedding. You know."

No, I didn't know. "Are you nervous about marrying Mommy?"

"Yes," he said, quickly changing his answer to, "No." He sighed and looked down at me. "Someday when you get married, you'll understand."

I made a face. "I'm never getting married. Girls are gross."

Daddy laughed at me. "You say that now, but trust me, you'll change your mind sooner than I'd like to think."

There was a knock on the door. It was my Uncle Perry.

"Hey there, Jason. Don't you look cute."

Blech.

"How're you holding up?" he asked, handing Daddy a glass of champagne.

"Oh, you know."

"Yeah, I know."

They both got very quiet and looked down at me.

"Hey, Jason," Daddy said, bending down to look me in the eyes. "Do you suppose you could go check on Mommy and see if she's almost ready?"

"Sure," I smiled, and headed out into the hall.

Mommy was getting dressed on the other side of the church. Grandma and Aunt Lucy were with her. They would probably fuss over me when they saw my tux and tell me how cute I looked. Grandma liked to pinch my cheeks, which I hated. Maybe I could manage to stand out in the hall and not have to actually go in the room. Maybe I could just talk to Mommy through the door. Then I wouldn't have to get my cheeks pinched.

I came around the corner of the sanctuary to find Mr. Clark sitting all alone in the corner. His head was down and he looked so very sad. I don't think I'd ever seen him look so sad. I wondered what was wrong.

"Mr. Clark?" I asked. "Are you all right?"

He looked up at me, surprised. "Hi, Jason. You look…" He smiled brightly at me.

"Cute?" I said with a frown.

"Yes. That suit is very cute."

I stuck out my tongue.

"Is there something wrong with that?" he asked, laughing at my face.

"I'm a little tired of hearing how cute I am in this thing. Grandma gets all pinchy about it."

"Pinchy?"

"Yeah," I said. "My cheeks."

"Oh." He took a deep breath. "I heard that you are going to give the bride away."

"Yeah," I said, sitting next to him on the bench. "My grandpa died a couple of years ago, so mom doesn't have anyone to walk her down the aisle. I'll probably trip and fall, but Daddy said not to be nervous. Which is weird because he's nervous, too."

"Richard's nervous?" he asked suddenly.

"Yeah, and I don't know why. He loves Mommy and she loves him."

Mr. Clark looked away for a second.

"Besides… they should be…" I couldn't say it. I shouldn't say it.

"What?" Mr. Clark asked. "They should what?"

This was embarrassing, but I knew Mr. Clark wouldn't tell anyone what I thought. He was good at keeping secrets. "Well, they should be married. I mean, they are my parents. All the kids at school have parents that are married. Well, unless they're divorced. But still, people should be married when they have kids. _I_ think so, at least."

Mr. Clark looked at me very strangely. He looked sad and almost confused. I hadn't meant to upset him. I'm not even sure what I said that had made him feel that way. I wanted to cheer him up.

"I'm sorry if I made you sad," I said, looking down at the floor.

"Don't be sorry, Jason. This doesn't have anything to do with… I'm not sad because you…" He looked at me again and then covered his face with his hands. "This is just a hard day for me, Jason."

I didn't understand. He knew my mom and dad. He was their friend. Why would today be hard for him? Unless…

"Don't you want my mom and dad to get married?" I asked.

His eyes met mine as I waited for his answer.

Slowly – almost carefully – he said, "Jason. Your father loves your mother very much. I know that for a fact. And I know that your father wants to marry her more than anything. He wants you to be a family. But—"

He looked away from me.

"But what?"

He spoke very softly now. "Sometimes the things we want aren't always the things that are right."

That made me angry. "You don't think it's right for my mom and dad to get married?"

He turned to look at me once more, this time in concern. "I'm so sorry, Jason. I didn't mean to upset you. I shouldn't have said…" He took a deep breath and added, "I'm messing up a lot today."

"But you never mess up."

He smiled a strange smile at me. A sad smile. "Oh, trust me, I've made some pretty big mistakes in my life."

"Really?" Superman makes mistakes? I didn't believe him.

"Everyone makes mistakes, Jason. Even when we think we're doing the right thing, it can turn out to be the worst thing we've ever done."

I was so confused. He wasn't making any kind of sense. "I still don't see what that has to do with my mom and dad."

He leaned forward and smiled. "You're a good kid, Jason. No, you're a _great_ kid. Richard and Lois deserve to be happy. They deserve to be married. And _you_…deserve a real family."

That made me smile. But I still had to ask, "Does that mean you're not sad anymore?"

He shrugged. "I'll probably be sad for a while, but I'll make you a deal. Promise me that you won't let my bad mood upset you any more and I promise that you won't see me frown again today."

"Sure." I nodded. "As long as I don't trip and fall in front of everyone."

"Just go slowly," he said. "One step at a time."

My mouth hung open. "That's what my daddy said!"

"Really?" He sounded surprised and thought for a moment. "Well, maybe your daddy doesn't give such bad advice."

I giggled. "Actually, Dad said I needed to see if Mommy was ready."

"Then you'd better go."

I turned to run off, but stopped to say one more thing. "Hey, Mr. Clark? Mom and Dad are going on vacation and I have to stay with my grandma. So…maybe Superman could come and visit me tonight before I have to leave."

He smiled a big smile this time, which made me feel really good inside. I made Superman smile.

"I think he'd like that."

"Okay," I said, and I ran off to find my mommy.

I got my checks pinched a record number of seven times that day, and I did trip a little when I walked down the aisle with mommy. But then I stuffed myself silly with cake when Mommy wasn't watching and had such fun dancing and playing around at the reception. It wasn't until later that night when Superman came to see me that I realized I hadn't seen Mr. Clark at the reception at all.


	3. Age 8: From Father to Son

_AN: Thanks so much for all the kind words of support! Just like last time, I want to make it clear to my readers that I don't think this is how things will happen at all, but it's a very interesting "what if" scenario. And just like "Shadow of Father" I'm amazed that so many of you enjoy the torture. It's going to start picking up a bit really soon, I promise. I hope from this you all can better understand where Jason's bitterness and anger comes from._

_Updates might be slow coming, I'm sorry to say. I just started rehearsal for Beauty and the Beast as the musical director and it's eating up all my writing time at night. But I promise to not leave you all hanging for too long. I have this fic pretty much all planned out, so I should be able to work though it better than normal. I just wanted you to know should you wonder about the updates._

_Many many thanks to htbthomas and Hellish for the beta read. Where would I be without you two? I would be in verb tense Hell, that's where I would be! LOL! _

**Age 8 – From Father to Son**

It was bad, and it was all my fault. Mom and Dad weren't even talking to each other, and no matter what they said, I knew it was my fault. I'd done something…awful…and they were mad at me for it.

I walked down the stairs to find my mom sitting alone in the living room, drinking some wine. It was afternoon, and mom only drank in the afternoon when she was upset. There were tears in her eyes, which really got me worried since mom hardly ever cries.

"Mom?" I said quietly.

She sniffed and looked at me. "Hi, honey."

I wasn't sure how to ask her what I needed to ask her, so I just said, "Are things okay?"

"Oh, munchkin, your dad's just a little angry right now. He needs time to cool off."

"Is it because of me?"

Her face went white. "What do you mean?"

"Because of what I did?"

Her lips pursed together. "Your dad isn't angry at you, Jason. He's angry at me."

I frowned. "But you didn't do anything!"

"Yes, I did." She rested her face in her hands. "I kept a secret from him – a very important secret. Something I should have told him about years ago. When I first suspected."

I bit my lip at the mention of secrets. I was keeping a few big secrets about Superman, and even some about what happened at school, and I'd worried a few times that maybe keeping secrets was the wrong thing to do. Hearing Mom talk about keeping secrets from Dad only made me worry that much more. Maybe I should tell her.

But then, I didn't want Superman to think he couldn't trust me. Maybe I _shouldn't_ tell her. I was starting to see that having a secret wasn't as exciting as I used to think it was.

I didn't want to think about my secrets, though. I was too worried about my family. "Where is Dad?" I suddenly asked.

She looked out the window to the place where Dad's plane floated on the water. "He's been out there all night. I think he's almost got it fixed."

I started to feel panicked. "Is he going somewhere? He's not leaving, is he?"

"I don't know," Mom answered, which didn't make me feel any better.

I felt my eyes grow hot with tears. "Are you sure it isn't me?"

Mom frowned at me, still looking worried. "Oh, Jason - "

"'Cause I won't do it again!" I said, the words falling out of my mouth before I could even think about it. "I promise! I don't even really know how I did it the first time, so I know I'll never do it again!"

"Jason - " Mom grabbed my shoulders.

"I didn't mean to do it! I just wanted to help! I didn't know I would break it!"

"Jason, that's enough."

My chin began to shake. "Really, Mom. I'm sorry."

She sighed and pulled me to her, hugging me and stroking my hair. "You didn't do anything wrong, sweetheart."

But I had done something wrong. I'd done lots of things wrong lately. About a month ago, I was playing baseball with some kids at school and I really wanted to show them I was a decent player. I meant to throw the ball to the pitcher, but ended up throwing the ball over the school. I didn't know how I was able to throw that hard, but the kids all whined at me for losing the ball like that. About a week later, I was messing around with Chris Donaldson's new bat and I accidentally broke it at the handle. The kids all started calling me names and none of them will let me play with their things anymore. I told my mom what had happened – both times – and both times she told me to just be more careful and not to say anything about it to my Dad.

Then a week ago, I was getting in the plane with Dad when he told me to make sure the door was shut tight.

"You have to really slam it, Jason," he said.

I rolled my eyes. "I know. I know!"

"Pull hard!" he ordered.

I pulled the handle with all of my might, wanting to show my Dad that I wasn't the baby he thought I was. The door slammed shut, shattering the frame and rocking the plane hard enough that water splashed onto the deck.

Dad's eyes were wild. "What did you do?"

"I don't know?" It was then that I noticed the handle of the door was still in my hands.

"How…?" Dad moved to the door, examining the damage in confusion. "How…? It's as if…"

He didn't finish his sentence. In fact, he froze in place for a second before turning around to face me. My dad looked down at me in a way I'd never seen before, as if he'd never looked at me before. It frightened me so much I didn't know what to do.

"I'm sorry," was all I managed to say.

He continued to look at me in that strange, new way.

"I break things," I mumbled, "when I try too hard."

He squinted at me. "This has happened before?"

"I've never broken the plane before."

"But you break other things?"

I nodded yes, thinking of the bat and the baseball…and a certain piano from a long time ago.

"I don't suppose," Dad said slowly, "that you could open the door?"

I bit my lip. I wasn't sure how I closed the door, let alone how I would be able to open it.

"Come here, Jason," he instructed, still looking at me with that unusual expression. "Put your hands on the door and push really hard. Let's see if that will do it."

"But I don't want to…" I mumbled.

He took a deep breath. "It's the only way we can get out of the plane."

I nodded and slowly walked back to the door. I gave him the handle and placed my hands on the door, spreading my fingers wide and keeping my palms flat. I looked over at Dad, wanting to ask if I really should try to do this. As if he heard my mind, he nodded his head yes.

"Push, Jason," he said softly.

I pushed – hard -- and the door fell away.

Outside, my mom came running up from the house. "What happened?"

"Jason broke the door," Dad explained slowly.

Mom looked shocked. "Jason did this?"

"Yes, Lois." His voice sounded angry. "_Your_ eight-year-old son just broke the door."

Mom gasped and covered her mouth with her hands.

"So, that's it, then?" Dad said, which I didn't understand. "That's it, isn't it?"

"Richard," she whispered. "I – I'm sorry…"

"No!" Dad said harshly. "No! You don't get to be sorry."

He jumped out of the plane and stomped into the house, slamming the door behind him.

Ever since then, Mom and Dad haven't really spoken to each other. They will talk to me, though, which I think is really strange since I'm the one that broke the plane. I thought for certain that Dad would be angry at me, but he keeps saying the same things Mom says. It's not my fault. I didn't do anything wrong. But since this all started when I broke the plane, I can't help but blame myself.

Now, as my mom hugged me and told me everything was going to be all right, I wanted more than anything to make sure she was telling the truth. I pulled away from her and ran out the door to where Dad was working on the plane.

"Don't leave!" I yelled as I ran.

Dad turned around, startled. "What?"

"Don't leave. Please. Don't leave because of me."

His face softened. "Jason, I'm not leaving. And even if I did, it wouldn't be because of you."

"But you're mad at me. You're mad at Mom. And you won't talk to her. I'm so sorry for what I did, and I'll do anything you want me to do to make it better. And I know Mom is sorry for whatever she did, too. But you can't leave." I felt the tears fall down my cheeks. "You have to give us another chance."

He licked his lips and knelt down to look me in the eyes. "I'm not leaving, Jason."

"You're not?"

He shook his head. "No, I'm just…angry. And I'm…sad."

"Because I broke the plane?"

"No," he said quietly. "I know that you didn't mean to. Your mom…your mom told me…what was going on."

That didn't make me feel much better. "She told you everything?"

He blinked slowly. "Oh, yeah. She told me…_everything_."

I couldn't hold it back. The tears started pouring out of my eyes like a waterfall. If he knew everything, then he knew…about the piano. Dad wrapped his arms around me and tried to calm me down.

"It's okay. Shhhh," he whispered. "We'll get through this."

"Will you help me?" I mumbled into his shirt. "I don't want to break anything else."

"I don't know if I_ can_ help you."

I pulled away from him, looking up into his face. "But…you're my _dad_. You and Mom…aren't you supposed to help me?"

His face became very hard, as if he was trying not to frown but couldn't help it. He hugged me again, much more tightly than he had held me earlier.

"I love you so much, Jason. So much."

"I love you, too."

I heard Mom come up beside us. Dad looked up at her and then back down at me. "I'm not leaving you. Things might be hard, but I'm not leaving you. For as long as you want me – both of you – you will have me. As far as I know, I still have a wife," he said, glancing up at Mom. "And I have…" His voice cracked and he started crying. I'd never seen Dad cry before. "I have a son," he added quietly, hugging me again.

I don't know why, but things got better after that. It wasn't totally back to normal, but at least Mom and Dad were talking again. In fact, I could have sworn I heard my dad say something one night like, "She's my wife now," but I didn't know who he was talking to. It didn't much matter to me, anyway, just as long as he wasn't fighting with Mom. Just as long as we were a family.

But it did make me wonder if they had told Superman what I had done to the plane, because he stopped coming to my window so often. Truth be told, I didn't miss him like I thought I would. Superman was great, but I liked the fact that my dad was spending more time with me now. That might sound crazy to most kids my age, but I'd like to have my dad right now rather than Superman.


	4. Age 9 Heart and Soul

_AN: Many thanks to htbthomas and Hellish for the beta read. I so enjoy their comments and groans through the story. I usually thank them last but I thought they deserved first credit this time. _

_I am thrilled that so many of you are following the story even though you know it is going to get worse and worse as the plot goes. It's been a little tricky making sure I stick to everything I originally wrote. Before I get tons of messages about the whole baseball situation contradicting something from Shadow of my Father, can I ask everyone to please wait for the next chapter before you tell me I got it wrong?_

_Like I said, things will slow down now that I'm busy with the show, but I promise I won't abandon this story. Only one more chapter to go until the crap really hits the fan…and that's kind of the reason I wanted to write this story. _

**Age 9 – Heart and Soul**

I could get into real trouble for doing what I did, but I just couldn't help it. I was so sick and tired of being the last one chosen for teams that I had to do it or risk being a known as the schools biggest dork. Mom and Dad have told me time and again not to play sports… just in case… but they don't have any idea what that has done to me at school. So I decided to put an end to it.

I played baseball with my friends yesterday.

And I played _good_!

I hit the ball hard, not as hard as I could, but it was still harder than Chris Donaldson! And when I asked for a chance to pitch, I made sure that my fastball was faster than anything Allen Garwood had thrown all day long. One of the older boys – I think he was maybe eleven or twelve – told me to come back tomorrow to play with them. I felt so great! Better than I had in a long time!

But that feeling didn't last long. Collin Ashley and I were talking after the game and for some stupid reason that I can't even explain, I told him how much I liked playing around on the piano. He started laughing at me and telling me that playing the piano was a girly thing to do. It was difficult to hide how much his comment hurt me just then.

Thankfully, my dad pulled up to the school not long afterwards and I hopped in the car more than ready to get home. I hoped he wouldn't ask me what I had done after school, but I knew better. In typical parental fashion, Dad asked, "So, how did school go today?"

"It was fine," I said, trying to brush it off, praying that he didn't want details.

No such luck. "What were you and your friends doing?"

"We were just hanging around." Maybe that would be okay.

He looked at me in the rear-view mirror. "Well, maybe it's time you had something to do after school besides hanging around."

I smirked at him. "Like what?"

"Oh, I don't know. What would you like to do?"

_Sports! I want to play sports! _But I didn't get the chance to vocalize my request because Dad added a very firm, "Other than sports, of course."

I sighed, my shoulders slumping forward. "I dunno. What else is there?"

"There are lots of things to do. In fact, I'm pretty sure that once we get home, you won't even be thinking about sports."

I made a face, but didn't say anything. There wasn't any point in arguing about it with him. He didn't like to talk about it much. All he would ever say about it was that I wasn't allowed to play any sports because I couldn't control my strength…yet. My point was always to say that I'd never learn how to control it if I didn't get to play sports, but Dad never let the conversation get around to that. He'd always change the subject and act as if we'd never even discussed anything.

When we pulled up to the house, I really wanted to tell Dad that he was wrong and I was still thinking about sports, but I held my tongue. I climbed out of the car with a frown on my face. Dad, on the other hand, was smiling brightly.

"Go check out the living room."

"Huh?"

He repeated his words more slowly. "Go check out the living room."

I shrugged and went into the house, dropping my school bag at the front door and kicking off my shoes in the process. I rounded the corner and headed into the living room only to come to a dead stop when I saw what was waiting there for me.

A piano.

It wasn't a grand piano. It wasn't even a baby grand. Just a plain, simple, upright piano. A real, honest to goodness piano with black and white keys and three pedals near the floor. And it was mine.

My eyes were wide with shock when Dad came up behind me. "Like it?" he asked, putting his hand on my shoulders.

"I love it!" I turned around and hugged his middle so tight!

"Hey," he said, trying to pull my arms from around him. "Loosen up there, okay?"

I jumped away from him. "Oh! Sorry!"

He laughed. "It's all right. I'm just glad you like the piano."

"I love it! I _love_ it!"

"So, here's the deal," he said as he bent down to look me in the eye. "We don't own it yet. We're paying it off. We'll only keep it if you use it. We'll start you on lessons and see how things go, and if you keep practicing, then the piano stays. But if you start slacking off and find that you don't like practicing, then the piano goes."

I nodded enthusiastically. "When do I start?"

"Well, the store that sold us the piano offers lessons, too. I set it up so that you'll meet with a teacher tomorrow after school. You'll go once a week on Wednesday, but you have to practice here on your own."

"I can do that!"

"I know you can."

I hugged him again, not as tight as last time, but still tight enough to show him how happy I was about this. I'd only been asking for a piano for months now. This was exactly what I wanted.

My excitement continued all evening as I plunked my way through "Heart and Soul" and a few other songs I knew. It lasted all night long as I imagined what my lesson would be like tomorrow and how much fun it would be. But it was out of control the next day at school. I was so distracted thinking about the lesson that I messed up on a math test and even spilled my milk on my shirt at lunch.

At 3:15 when the bell finally rang, I raced outside to wait for Dad to pick me up and take me to my lesson. Chris Donaldson and the older boy that I played ball with yesterday called to me from the ball field.

"Hey, White!" Chris said. "Come on over!"

"I can't," I said in all honesty. "Not today."

They looked at each other before running across the field to talk to me.

"What do you mean, not today?" Chris said.

"I've got plans. My Dad's going to be here any minute."

"I told you he'd wuss out," the older boy mumbled.

Chris looked at me in a way that made me catch my breath. He looked scary all of a sudden. "You said you'd play today. I got these guys here and everything," he said angrily, pointing at the crowd gathering on the field. "I bet money that we would win. Now, you're my little secret weapon here. You can't just bail out on me."

"Well," I said slowly. "I'm sorry, but I just can't play today."

Chris said a word that I wasn't allowed to say without getting punished.

"Nah, it's okay, Chris," the older boy said. "How 'bout tomorrow? You free then?"

I should have said no. I knew I wasn't supposed to show off like I had yesterday, and I wished now that I hadn't ever done it. But something inside of me made my mouth form the words, "Yeah, I can play tomorrow. I can play whenever you want, just not on Wednesday."

"What's on Wednesday?" Chris asked.

"I, um…" For some reason, I was afraid to tell them about the lessons. "I just…Dad and I…do stuff together on Wednesday." Suddenly very confident in my lie, I said, "You know, guy time – just me and Dad – without my mom."

"Sure, whatever," the older boy said. "You're off the hook today, but you better show us some smokin' fast-balls tomorrow."

I nodded quickly, wanting to make sure they weren't angry at me for pulling out of the game today. It felt good to know that they wanted me around. For a long time, no one would let me play with them, Chris especially. He wasn't exactly the nicest guy in school, but he was still pretty popular. To know that he was expecting me to be on his team meant something to me. But at the same time, I felt guilty for not just telling the truth about my lessons. I wanted these lessons more than I wanted to play any game of baseball, and yet I made it seem the other way around.

As Chris and the other boy rejoined the team on the field, I headed down the street so that they wouldn't glare at me. Dad would pass this way and stop to pick me up, so I wasn't worried about that. My thoughts were muddled, jumping between the piano lesson and the lie I had told to my friends – if I could even call them my friends. I wasn't paying any attention to where I was going when I walked right into someone.

"Oh, sorry," I said, looking up at the stranger. Only it wasn't a stranger. "Mr. Clark?"

"Hi, Jason. You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. What are you doing here?"

"I just, um…" He looked over my head to where the guys were playing ball. "What was going on with those boys? Is everything all right?"

I shrugged. "They just wanted me to play and I can't today."

"It sounded a little bit more serious than that. It sounded to me like they were threatening you."

I had to think about that for a moment. Even though I knew who Mr. Clark _really_ was, I sometimes forgot that he could do all those amazing things when he wasn't wearing the boots and cape. Of course, he had heard the conversation I had with the guys. All of it.

"They weren't threatening me. They just…you know…wanted me to play."

He nodded. "What did he mean by 'smokin' fast-ball'?"

I froze, knowing I had been caught. My mom was pretty close with Superman, and I knew that she had told him about some of the things I could do. I also knew that he knew I wasn't supposed to do those things. I had no choice but to explain myself.

"Okay," I started, "I know I'm not supposed to, but I played ball yesterday. See, I'm really tired of all the kids thinking I'm too sick to do anything, when in reality I can do lots of things they can't do. Like baseball – I'm a really fast runner and I can throw a ball really hard and really fast. Now, I didn't run as fast as I could. And I didn't throw the ball too hard. I was just fast enough to show them I wasn't sick. And I threw the ball just hard enough to show them I'm good at something. I mean, Chris is really popular and he was the captain of his Little League team last summer and now he wants me to play on his team. That's really cool for me."

"Jason—"

"Please don't tell my parents," I cut in before he could scold me. "I promise that I won't show off too much. But I'm better than these kids at sports and they think that I'm a wimp because I won't play anything. Mom and Dad have no idea how much I get teased about stuff like this. It's not fair for them to ask me to not play sports."

"Jason, I understand. I really do." He put a hand on my shoulder.

For the first time, I considered that he _did_ know what it was like to be able to do things and not tell anyone. After all, _Mr. Clark_ couldn't do amazing things. It was Superman who had all the gifts. When he was Mr. Clark, he held back and didn't show anyone that he could fly or lift a truck with his bare hands or set fire with his eyes.

"So, you won't tell?" I begged.

He took a deep breath. "You said Richard is on his way to pick you up, right? You're having a day with him?"

I smiled brightly. "No, not really. Mom and Dad bought me a piano and I'm starting piano lessons today!"

He smiled back at me. "Oh, that's great! I know you love music." His eye-brows went up suddenly. "That's your Wednesday commitment, isn't it?"

I nodded with excitement.

"Why didn't you just tell your friend that?"

I rolled my eyes. "I can't tell them that. They'll think I'm a wuss." I frowned up at him. "You don't think playing the piano is too girly, do you?"

He laughed. "No, not at all. If it's something you like, then you should have the chance to learn about it."

"I do like it. I like it a lot!"

"More than baseball?"

"Yes." I made a face. "But I like baseball, too. I wish I could do both."

He was quiet for a moment.

"Are you going to tell?" I asked again. And then, before I could stop myself, I added, "I keep secrets for_ you_. Can't you keep this secret for _me_?"

His face grew very hard and he thought about my words. "I won't tell Lois or Richard about today. But you have to be very careful from now on. You don't want to draw too much attention to yourself." His voice was deep and powerful – the voice he used when he was Superman.

"Why not?" I shrugged. "Maybe I'll grow up to be some famous Major League pitcher or something!"

"Maybe you'll grow up to be a concert pianist," he replied.

"Whatever," I laughed. Then it suddenly hit me. "Maybe I can grow up to be like you."

Mr. Clark blinked. "What?"

"Well, I'm a pretty strong kid, and I'm fast and all that. I know I can't do all the amazing things you can do, like flying and stuff, but I could still help people."

His face softened as he looked down at me. He touched my head, brushing my hair out of my eyes. Something about the way he looked at me then made my insides lurch. He'd never looked at me like that before and it made me…uncomfortable. I told myself it was nothing. This was Superman, after all. But even still, it was a very awkward moment.

Thankfully, I saw my dad pull up to the cub in his car just then.

"Dad!" I yelled to him.

Mr. Clark jumped. "What did you say?"

"My dad's here," I said, pointing to the car.

"Oh," he said in surprise. "Right."

By that time, my dad was approaching us. "Clark? What are you doing here?"

"Hi, Richard. I just…um…I was d-d-doing some research for a story and um…saw Jason." He used his Mr. Clark voice again, which made me want to laugh.

Ruffling my hair, Dad asked, "You ready to go, Munchkin?"

"Dad," I rolled my eyes and whined. "I hate that name."

He made a face. "Oh, sorry. _Jason_." He stilled his hand on my head, brushing my hair back from my forehead in an eerily familiar gesture. "You're growing up so fast."

What was going on with all the adults today? Whatever it was, they needed to stop it.

"Can we go now?" I said impatiently. The longer we stood here, the greater the risk that Mr. Clark would tell my dad what I had done.

"Sure, come on." Dad turned to Mr. Clark. "Good luck with your story, Clark. See you around."

"Bye, Richard. Bye, Jason," he called, waving at us as we climbed into the car.

As we drove off, I glanced back at Mr. Clark, thankful he had kept my secret. I noticed that he was watching the car with a longing I didn't understand. It was another look I'd never seen before from Mr. Clark. If I didn't know any better, I'd say Mr. Clark looked… jealous.


	5. Age 10: The Sound of Silence

_AN: This chapter is a bit different from anything I've written so far. I wanted to try and give my readers a sample of what I think it's like to really be Jason in this scene. So I tried to let you hear what he was hearing, even if it was confusing. I hope you can manage to follow along, but at the same time, I hope you realize how very difficult it is for Jason. _

_Many thanks to htbthomas and Hellish for the beta read. They both assured me that this wasn't as confusing as I feared. And many thanks to those of you who review time after time. You keep me writing! _

_Next chapter…the crap is really going to hit the fan._

**Age 10 – The Sounds of Silence**

The score was tied three to three. It was the top of the ninth and my team was in the outfield. If we could stop the Wolves from scoring any runs in this inning…and then if we could score at least one run…we would win. My team was undefeated, which meant that this wasn't a necessary win for us. We would be going to the playoffs anyway, regardless of the outcome of this game. The point was we wanted to go into the playoffs as the one team who managed to beat all the others. Undefeated. That was a _huge_ accomplishment.

I scraped my foot on the ground, bringing up some dirt under my cleat and getting a good grip into the earth. From my position in the outfield, I could easily see every member of my team as they waited for the next player to come up to bat. Not a single player on my team looked nervous. They all looked determined – ready to win this and get to the finals. I felt the same way.

This was only my second summer in Little League. At the end of fourth grade, I accidentally let it slip to my mom that I had been playing ball with the guys. After the usual routine of parental hysterics, she finally settled down and realized that no one was suspicious of me…or rather, what I could _do_. I had learned how to hold back and not be overly showy, so much so that I had managed to pass myself off as an average, run-of-the-mill player. After a very long and heated discussion, my parents decided, at long last, that I could play on a real team. So last summer I went to tryouts and was placed in the outfield as number 23 on the East Metropolis Dragons. Nice.

Outfield was a good place for me. I could run just fast enough that any ball heading my way was in danger of being caught. My only problem was in my hand-eye coordination; I dropped the ball more times than I cared to admit. All last fall, Dad had spent night after night out in the yard throwing pitches at me while I tried to catch them. I got so good that this summer I hardly ever dropped the ball. In fact, I had become one of the most feared members of my team, and that was a position I quite liked holding .

It helped balance things out for me now that I could play ball. Kids didn't tease me as much. I wasn't a total outcast at school anymore. Most importantly, I could get away with piano lessons without the guys laughing at me. They knew I had what it took to win a ball game. So what if I spent some time on the piano, too. I even heard that Mark Edwards was thinking of starting lessons because Christina Peet told him she thought my piano playing was cool…and Mark had a major crush on Amanda.

It was turning out to be the best summer of my life. Between winning every ball game, playing in recitals, and finally hitting double digit on my birthday, things seemed to be going so great. If only we could win this last game and make it into the playoffs – and then eventually win the championship – everything would be perfect.

The player coming up to bat was one of the biggest guys on the Wolves' team. He was a bully of a kid that no one liked, and boy, was he strong. I took my stance with my glove out in front of me, ready to catch whatever would come my way.

"He's a powerful hitter. Let's hope White can catch this."

I looked around me, uncertain of where the voice was coming from. It sounded like my coach, but he was up front in the dugout, while this voice seemed to be coming from someone standing right next to me. Weird.

The pitcher threw a curve ball. The batter took a clumsy swing at the ball and missed.

"Come on, Pierson, pitch him out."

Again, the voice of my couch sounded impossibly close. I looked over at the dugout to see if he had moved. He stood right where he always stood, watching the game and narrating to himself .

"A kid that big shouldn't be allowed to play Little League."

I watched his mouth form the words and heard his voice clear as crystal. Yet he was still on the other side of the field from me. It was impossible…and yet I could hear him perfectly.

The sound of the ball cracking against a bat snapped me out of my thoughts and I turned to find where the ball had gone. It was in the air, heading right towards me. I extended my hands above my head and run to get under the ball. I jumped as the ball came within reach and caught the ball safely in my glove.

The crowd cheered – they cheered loudly. It was louder than I'd ever heard before. I flinched, and had it not been for the ball in my glove, I would have covered my ears with my hands.

"Toss it back, Jason!" the pitcher called.

I was still startled by the volume of the voices around me, but I tossed the ball back without making a big deal out of it. I shook my head, thinking that my ears must have popped open or something, which was what was making everything sound so weirdly amplified. Whenever Dad took me flying in his plane, there was always a moment when my ears would feel clogged and then suddenly pop. Maybe this was something like that.

The second hitter came up to bat and struck out. Again, the crowd was cheering so loudly that it was really starting to bother me. When the third batter was called out at first base, it was my team's last chance to hit. I ran towards the dugout, trying to ignore the pulsating sounds around me. More than the voices, I was hearing the sounds of the cleats pounding into the earth, the hands of the onlookers clapping, even the cars driving past us on the street.

I stood still and looked around, sounds quickly filling every inch of my ears, bombarding me from all directions. I covered my ears, desperate to silence the noise and find some peace. My eyes caught sight of my mother, who had stood up in the bleachers and was watching me with a worried expression.

"Something's wrong," I heard her say to Dad.

Noise and more noise. Louder and louder, constantly increasing…

Cars…

Laughter…

Wind…

My coach patted my back. "Jason? You okay?"

Voices…

And more voices…

Feet stomping…

Hands clapping…

It was all so loud, pounding in my ears, never stopping, the volume growing and growing…

Mom was at my side now. I looked at her face and saw her form the word, "Jason?" I could hardly make out the sound of her voice now with all the other sounds around me.

"It's loud," I said, and my voice rumbled through my head like a megaphone put to my ear. I cried out in fear…in pain…it was so loud! Everything…all around…inside me…I could hear it all. And it terrified me beyond all reason.

"Make it stop!" I called out, even though I knew my voice was too loud in my head.

Dizzy from all the sound, I fell to my knees with my hands still over my ears. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out everything and everyone around me. Someone picked me up. Someone was saying something to me. I could make out my name mixed in with the thousands and thousands of other sounds swirling in the air.

Forcing my eyes open to see what was going on, I focused on my dad's face. He was carrying me and I could tell from the way his feet sounded on the ground that he was going as fast as he could.

A car door…

Fabric against leather…

My father's panting breath as he lowered me into the seat…

The car door slamming…

Voices filling the air in a jumble…

"We have to get him out of here."

"What's going on with Jason?"

"What a freak show."

"Where can we take him?"

"There goes our winning streak."

"I hope he's all right."

"Somewhere quiet."

"I've never seen anything like that."

"I'm sure we can win without White."

"We're in Metropolis, Richard. There isn't anyplace quiet."

"Want to go get pizza after the game?"

"I always hated that kid."

"Well, where's Mr. Wonderful? He could take him some place quiet."

"Wonder if he's contagious."

"He takes all those freaky medications."

"Just get in the car and drive."

"Let us know what's wrong."

"Please call me when he's feeling better."

Car doors…

Slam…

"Okay, back to the game."

"Let's win this thing."

"Any suggestions?"

"Home."

The engine roared and the radio blasted right behind my head. I screamed in spite of the fact that my voice sounded louder than any other sound. It hurt…and it wasn't stopping.

I'm not sure how fast Dad drove to get home, but I do know that it was a matter of moments and we were pulling into the drive. Another moment and I was being carried up to my room.

Birds chirping…

The ocean splashing against the deck…

"Take him to his room where he can at least lie down."

That was mom's voice. It was clearer now that there weren't so many other voices around. But even still, it was difficult to concentrate on what she was saying.

I felt the soft cushion of my bed and immediately crawled under the pillows, covering my face in the process. I pressed the pillows against my ears, trying to block out any and all sound and finding that it was impossible. For even though there were no voices to distract me – even though there were no cars or music or birds – there was still me.

My breathing…

My rapid heart beat…

My throat swallowing hard…

The previously unnoticeable sound of my every strand of hair moving against the pillow…

I started to cry – really cry – and that only made things worse. I didn't know how to stop it. I didn't know what was happening to me. It was all a jumble and it terrified me. All I wanted to do was to scream for help at the top of my lungs, but I knew that if I did it would only hurt more.

I felt pressure on my back. It was a hand rubbing my back. I could hear the sound the fabric made against my skin.

"Jason?"

I knew that voice.

"Take the pillows away from your ears."

I shook my head no, not wanting to hear anything.

"Jason, please. Covering your ears will only make the sounds worse."

He was right. It was worse, but I had to try. I couldn't just lie here and do nothing.

"You have to trust me, Jason. You have to take the pillows away from your ears."

I tried to slow my crying. I didn't want him to see me crying. He would think I was a big baby for bawling like this. I huffed a few more times and slowly pulled the pillows away from my head.

The sounds of my body were replaced with the sounds of everything else. A clock ticking …the hum of the computer…a fan blowing…

"He's in with Jason now," Mom said. I looked around for her, but I couldn't see her.

The clock was ticking.

"Alone?" It was Dad's voice, but like Mom, he wasn't in the room.

"He can help. Please, Richard."

"Jason," Superman said, drawing my attention. "Look at me."

The air conditioner whirred to life.

I sat up, looking around the room in confusion.

"What's he going to tell him?" Dad sounded worried.

"Look at me, Jason," Superman repeated. "Focus on me."

Mom's voice made focusing very hard. "He just wants to help."

"Look at me when I'm talking and force all the other sounds to the back."

A dog barked somewhere outside.

"I can hear everything," I said quietly, afraid of the sound of my own voice.

"I know," he said just as softly, sitting next to me on the bed. "But you have to ignore it."

My chin quivered. "How? It's so loud."

"As if Jason isn't confused enough already?"

"We don't have much choice here, Richard."

"Focus on me." His voice was so gentle – soothing. "It helps if you watch my mouth when I talk. That way you can ignore the other sounds more easily. Just let them blend into a hum in the background."

"Just make it stop," I said.

"I can't."

"I need to go to the doctor. There has to be some medicine I can take. There's always some kind of pill or a shot. I'll take a shot, twenty shots, even, any day of the week to get rid of this!"

"Not this time."

I gaped at him. "What do you mean? This has to go away, right? I can't live like this."

He sighed, his face looking at me with such sadness. "This isn't going to go away, Jason. This is…permanent."

"Are we allowed to go see how he's doing?"

The clock was still ticking

"I don't know."

Superman was breathing.

"It's quiet in there."

The dog barked.

"I want to see him."

I could hear Superman's heart beating.

"This _has_ to stop!" I demanded. "This isn't normal!" The tears were coming back and I couldn't do anything to stop them. "What's wrong with me?"

He scooted closer to me and placed his hands on my arms. "There is nothing wrong with you, Jason. Nothing."

I shook my head. "But this isn't right!"

"This is how you are. This is normal for _you_."

"What do you mean?" I said through my tears.

"Your ears are more sensitive than other people's ears. You'll be able to hear things that others won't."

He sounded like he was telling me something I should be excited about, but I wasn't. Not even close.

"Why?" I cried. "Why do _I_ have to have this? Haven't I had enough problems in my life? Can't I just be _normal_?"

His mouth opened as if he wanted to say something, but he didn't. He looked at me with such pain and sadness.

"Make it stop," I whimpered as I crumbled into his arms.

He held me, rocking gently and rubbing my back as if to soothe away the pain in my head. "You'll be okay." He said. "It will just take time."

I didn't understand what he meant. What would take time? There was no way I would be able to live with all this noise. It was horrible. Unbearable. I couldn't concentrate.

"Is he all right?" Mom asked. She was in the room now. Superman stood up to give her room next to me on the bed.

I sniffed and wiped at my eyes. "Can we go to the doctor and see if he can give me anything to help?"

Her eyes darted to look at Superman, who shook his head sadly. Mom ran her hand down my cheek in that way that moms do when something bad happens and there's nothing they can do to fix it.

"I'm sorry, honey. This…this isn't…"

I sobbed, wrapping my arms around her tightly and wishing with all my might that I would wake up and find out this was a dream. More like a nightmare.

"What can we do for him?" Dad asked from the door way.

Superman sighed. "You have to help him learn to concentrate on the important sounds. Voices will be the most difficult."

"So what do we do?" Dad said more slowly.

"I know this is going to sound strange, but you have to talk to him as if he were…well…deaf."

"Deaf?" Dad growled. "You mean yell at him?"

"No, I mean that you should speak very slowly and clearly. Make sure he's looking at you when you are talking to him. Don't expect him to respond to you if you just call to him from the other side of the house. Remember that he's hearing hundreds of sounds, not just your voice."

"What about school?" Mom asked, stroking my hair and holding me tightly against her.

"School…will probably be difficult. The faster he can learn to focus on one voice over the others, the better things will be. But…"

"But?" Dad said.

"It's difficult. Things will be very difficult for awhile."

The room was quiet for a moment. I could hear Mom's heart beating away in her chest. That dog was still barking somewhere.

"You have to be careful what you say from now on," Superman explained. "He'll be able to hear you, even if he isn't concentrating on hearing you. Make plans for birthdays and Christmas and…anything private when Jason's not around."

"Great," I groaned. "Now I'm just more of a freak."

Mom gasped and squeezed me tighter. "No, honey. You're not a freak. You just have talents that other people don't have."

"Well, I don't want this one!"

"Lois-" Superman started, but Mom stopped him with her hand.

It was then that I wondered why Superman was here at all. In the confusion of the moment, I hadn't thought about the fact that Superman really didn't have anything to do with this – with me. Why was he even here? I wasn't hurt – not technically. He wasn't here to save my life or rescue me from danger. And he never came to see me when Mom or Dad were here.

Was it for the advice? Was he here because Mom and Dad asked him to help me? That my hearing was similar to his for some reason? But how was that possible? I was human. He was an alien. What was happening to me couldn't be anything like him…could it? It was all so confusing.

"Maybe…you should go," Mom whispered.

Superman nodded and left the room quietly.

When we were alone, Mom asked, "What about sleeping? How does he sleep with all this noise?"

"Ear plugs," Dad said. "We'll get him the best."

"No," I said, pushing away from Mom and looking over her at Dad. "It doesn't make things better. When I plug my ears…" I didn't even know how to describe it. "It doesn't help. I'll just…" I shrugged.

They were looking at me in pity. I didn't like it at all. In fact, I hated it.

"Can I be alone for a little while?" I asked.

"Sure, honey. Whatever you want." Mom got up from the bed and took Dad's hand.

"We'll be downstairs if you want anything," Dad said.

They left the room with Mom giving me one more glance over her shoulder before she shut the door. I immediately flopped myself down on my bed. Angry and frustrated by it all, I kicked off my cleats and started listening to the continuous swirl of sounds filling the air. I couldn't help but hear them talking about me in the distance.

"It's sooner than we thought," Dad said.

"Shhh," was Mom's reply.

The wind rattled the windows.

An airplane flew over the house.

"We have to tell him."

"Not yet."


	6. Age 10 and a half: Biology 101

_AN: A few explanations. First, I realized that in SomF, Jason knew by his eleventh birthday that Supes was his father. This chapter was originally going to be age 11, but it can't be. Thus, it's 10 and a half! Second of all, in writing it I discovered that finding out you are Superman's son takes a lot more than one chapter. Thus, I have divided it into two sections. Part two is nearly finished and should be posted early next week depending on the beta readers._

_Hellish and htbthomas – you gals ROCK! I thrive on your enthusiasm and your encouragement._

_Many thanks to all of you who have been reading and reviewing. I'm sorry it took so long to update. Things should get a little better now that the holiday is over._

**Age 10 1/2 – Biology 101**

The best summer of my life quickly transformed into the worst school year ever. It was awful. Horrible. Terrible. Beyond atrocious. I didn't have enough bad words in my vocabulary to describe it. And I could blame it all on these hyper-sensitive ears of mine.

It was next to impossible to do anything anymore. I never realized how much I depended on my ears to get me through the day. Simple activities that I once took for granted became challenging and stressful. Forget playing sports. The sound of the crowd cheering and the team members calling out to one another was far too distracting. Forget going to the movies. Popcorn crunching and people whispering drew my attention away from the story. Or going out to eat. The sound of people chewing and swallowing food…and then their stomachs digesting the food…it all made me want to vomit, never mind lose my appetite

But the worst part of this whole thing was going to school. I used to get straight A's at school – well, except for gym. I only did well in gym in the last year or so. But thanks to my inability to hear the teacher and only the teacher, I ended up missing half of the instructions for assignments. I would try to watch her mouth when she spoke, but how could I do that when she would turn her back and write on the chalkboard? My grades started falling, even though I knew I'd be able to take the tests and answer any question if only the room were quiet.

I tried to do most of my work at home in the evenings. We lived just far enough away from the city that there were fewer distractions at home. It would never be really quiet, but at least it was quieter than the city. Assignments that I could complete at home earned me A's and B's, depending on how well I had been able to follow the verbal instructions. But any work I completed at school ended up getting C's or D's. I even got a few F's.

My teacher asked me what the problem was one day and I told her the truth; that I was distracted by how noisy her classroom was. My "smart mouth" landed me in detention during recess. Needless to say, I never mentioned the noise to her again.

My one bit of solitude, so to speak, was when I played piano. I would pound the keys as hard as I could, drowning out every other sound around me. It didn't matter what the song was, I would play it loudly. And fast. The faster and louder, the better. I would play and play, late into the night until Mom or Dad would tell me I _had_ to go to bed.

They pretty much left me alone when I was playing; they knew how hard it was for me to have such sensitive ears. I heard Mom once say that at least I wasn't watching TV all night. Yeah, like I could do that. I had the same problem with TV as I had with school; I couldn't always see the mouth of the person who was speaking, so I missed half the story. So I just stayed at the piano. I'd rather hear music than listen to birds or cars or voices or breathing.

That's why I didn't think much of it at first when I heard Mom and Dad talking one night up in their bedroom. I had just finished up one song and was ready to start another when I caught Dad saying something about how miserable I was, to which Mom replied that there wasn't anything she could do. I grumbled to myself and starting pounding away at another song.

"You have to tell him, Lois! You _have_ to!"

"I can't!"

"Why not?"

"I'm not ready!"

I stopped my fingers, suddenly noticing the tone of the conversation going on between my parents. I hated it when they fought. A few years ago, they had fought so badly that I was afraid they would get a divorce. They hadn't been really arguing recently, but I knew there was something going on that wasn't right. And just like their fight all those years ago, I knew this one was about me, too. Me and my freakish abilities.

"_You're_ not ready?" Dad said. "Well, Lois, did you ever stop to think that this isn't so much about you as it is about him? He's…miserable."

"And you don't think I'm miserable?" Her voice broke, and it was then that I realized that she was crying.

"Then tell him and get this over with."

She sighed. "I – I – I don't even know where to begin."

"Lois," Dad's voice grew softer. "If you don't tell him soon, he's going to figure it out on his own. It's only a matter of time. Hell, I thought for sure he would have worked it out by now."

"I know. I _know_." She sobbed again.

I frowned in confusion. What was it I was supposed to figure out? What was it that had them both so worried and upset?

"You have to tell him," Dad repeated, "before he _does_ figure it out and gets angry with us for not telling him the truth."

I scowled. They were lying to me? About what?

"I just don't know how to tell him," Mom groaned. "Maybe it would be better coming from you."

"Oh, no you don't! You're not pinning this on me!" Dad sounded defensive.

"Why not? You're not the one who…well…if he does get angry…it wouldn't be about you."

"But it _is_ about me, Lois. And this _will_ affect me. It will affect the relationship I have with him. It will change the way he talks to me – the way he looks at me. It will change everything."

"It will change the way he looks at _both_ of us."

"Yes, but _you_ wouldn't be the one losing him."

"Losing him? What do you mean?"

I wanted to know what he meant, too. This whole conversation didn't make much sense to me and it was getting weirder by the minute.

"At the end of the day, he would still be your son."

I froze. Had I just heard that correctly?

There was a very uncomfortable, very frightening silence between them then. And it didn't escape my notice that Mom didn't contradict him for saying what he had.

"I can't do this, Lois." Dad's voice was shaking. "I can't look him in the eyes and tell him I'm not his father."

The world stopped spinning. Or maybe it _started_ spinning. I couldn't tell. My mind was reeling at his words. My heart was pounding so hard in my chest I thought it might burst out.

Not my father? That couldn't be right. He had to be my father. He _had_ to be.

"What makes you think that _I _can do it?" Mom asked.

"I'm not saying this is something easy to do, but Lois, he needs to hear it from you. Or him."

Him? Him _who_? My mind raced, desperately trying to comprehend what I was hearing.

"I don't know about that," Mom sighed. "I don't think that would be the best idea – for him to talk to Jason about this. Jason hasn't been responding to his powers very well. This might be too much for him."

"Because he doesn't know _why_ he has those powers."

Powers? Did they mean the freaky things I could do? I'd never heard my parents refer to them as "powers" before. Powers weren't something I had. Powers were something Superman had.

I jumped.

And my heart skipped a beat.

"Maybe you're right," Dad said. "Maybe he isn't the best one to tell Jason, but he is going to have to own up to it at some point."

"I thought you didn't want him around Jason."

"I didn't. But ever since that day Jason started hearing everything, I've been thinking about it. I remember how worried he looked when he tried to help Jason. How completely dejected he seemed when we asked him to leave. He's come by two or three times wanting to know how Jason is doing and…"

Dad took a deep breath.

And I noticed that I was holding my breath.

"Lois, when I found out that I wasn't Jason's father, the thing that scared me more than anything was the thought that Superman might come along and take my son away from me. And I would be powerless to stop him. But he didn't. He didn't take Jason away. In fact, it was kind of the other way around. I took Jason from _him_. I told him to stay away. I told him that he wasn't welcome here, that Jason was fine without him. Now I see that's not true. Jason needs him now more than ever. He's Jason's father…and Jason needs…his father."

I covered my mouth with my hands, fighting back the scream that was building up inside of me. This was impossible. This couldn't be true.

Superman was an alien. An _alien_! He wasn't human. He wasn't even born on earth!

Tears formed in my eyes as my brain tried to adjust to the unfathomable information. I was shaking. My whole body was shaking.

"If someone had tried to keep me from Jason," Dad continued, "if Superman had told me that I wasn't welcome in Jason's life…my heart would have broken. And yet that's exactly what I did to him. I told him he couldn't be part of his son's life."

My hands balled up into fists. I was still shaking, unable to sit still any longer. Unable to control the fear – the anger – the _rage_ building up inside of me.

"And now you're willing to let him be a part of Jason's life? Even if it means…" Mom didn't finish her thought.

"I'm willing to let him help Jason. I don't say that for his sake, but for Jason's. Jason needs his help. He's the only one who knows how to deal with all this mess that's going on in Jason's body."

Mess…the mess in my body. The _alien_ mess.

I couldn't hold it in any longer. I couldn't control it. I screamed and pounded my fists down on the keyboard of the piano, breaking it and sending bits of ivory flying everywhere.

My parents' feet thumped on the stairs as they ran down to see what happened.

"Jason?" Mom called.

"Good lord, look at the piano!" Dad said.

"Are you all right?" Mom reached out to touch me.

"No, I'm NOT all right! I'm NOT! NOTHING is right!"

"Jason?" Dad said.

But it was Mom who understood. "You heard us?"

Dad gasped.

"You heard us, didn't you?" Mom repeated.

"Just tell me it's not true," I begged, tears spilling over and running down my cheeks.

"Oh, Jason, honey," Mom whimpered. "This wasn't how you were supposed to find out."

I looked at my dad. "Tell me you're still my father!"

He looked back at me with such sorrow.

I looked at mom. "Tell me I'm not an alien!"

She didn't hesitate. "You're not an alien, Jason."

"Superman is an alien."

"But I'm not," she said.

"Oh, so that makes this okay, then?"

She reached for me again, "Jason-"

"No!" I jumped away from her. "Don't. Don't. Just…leave me alone!"

I ran up the stairs to my room as fast as I could, slamming the door behind me so hard it jammed in the frame. I didn't believe them. I couldn't believe them. Superman never lied. He wouldn't lie to me. Not about something like this. He would tell me the truth. He would set this all straight.

I grabbed the phone and dialed the number I memorized years ago.

"Clark Kent."

I froze. It was then that I realized there was more to this than the idea that Superman was my father. Superman was Clark Kent – it was a secret only I knew.

"_No one can know who I am, Jason. It's too dangerous."_

"_Not even mom?"_

"_Not even your mother."_

I'd kept his secret now for years. I suddenly understood just how deep this secret went.

"_You're very important to me, Jason. I don't want you to get hurt because you're… because of me."_

"_Why would anyone want to hurt me?"_

"_Because of our… relationship."_

"_You mean because I know your secret?"_

"_Something like that."_

Something like that? Clark Kent was Superman…and Superman was my father…which meant that Clark Kent was…

"Hello?" the voice on the line said.

I started crying. Crying hard.

"Jason?"

"Yes, it's me," I managed weakly.

"What's the matter? What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

"I-I-" I had no way to say what it was I needed to say. My mind was so confused…and yet everything was suddenly clear. "I need to talk to you right now," I mumbled through my tears.

"Where are you?"

I sniffed. "Home."

"I'll be right there."

The line went dead. There was a knock on my door.

"Jason?" It was Dad. "Jason, please open up!"

I wiped at my face and went to the door. I tugged on it and it came open. "What?"

Mom saw the phone in my hand. "Who did you call?"

I scowled at her. "Who do you think? Someone who will tell me the truth!"

Her eyes went wide. "Superman? You called…Superman?"

Dad made a face. "Superman has a phone?"

"How do you even know his number?" Mom asked, trying to take the phone from me.

It was outrageous! My world had just caved in on me and they were worried about Superman's phone number? Mom probably wanted to hit the redial button just to see what would happen.

Angry and completely frustrated, I slammed the phone down on the floor, breaking it into pieces in the process.

"Will you forget about the damn phone?"

"Jason!" Mom exclaimed.

But I didn't want to hear it. I ran past them, down the steps, and out the front door. I ran to the edge of the water and looked up into the sky, waiting for him to appear, as he always did.

His voice came from behind me. "Jason, what's happened?"

I turned around to face him, tears falling down my face. "I heard them. I heard them talking."

"Heard who?"

"Mom and D-" The word fell away unspoken. I hadn't heard my mom and _dad_. I had heard mom and… "Richard," I said swallowing hard.

"Richard?" he stressed. And then he understood. He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. "You know." It wasn't a question.

I clenched my fists. "Is it true?"

His eyes met mine with a piercing gaze.

"Is it true?" I repeated more forcefully.

He nodded slowly, never taking his eyes away from mine.

In that moment, everything I had ever known came crashing down around me in pieces. I couldn't hold in the sob that broke from my throat.

"Now you know why things have to be the way they are."

I gaped at him, utterly confounded by his statement. "Wh – what?"

"Now you see why no one can ever know about this – why this has to stay a secret."

"No, I don't!" I cried.

"Jason," he took a step closer to me, and I stepped away. "No one can know who you are."

"Not even me?"

His mouth opened and then closed, making it obvious he wanted to say something but didn't know what .

"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked.

"Because…I was trying to protect you."

"Protect me from what?"

"From anyone that would want to hurt you because of me."

I blinked. "That still doesn't explain why you wouldn't tell me."

He didn't have an answer.

"You lied to me," I added softly.

"I never lied to you, Jason."

That was total crap! "Yes, you did!" I snapped.

"No, I have always been very careful to _not_ lie to you."

"A lie of omission is still a lie!"

He frowned. "What?"

"It's something my teacher says when she thinks we aren't telling her everything. A lie of omission is still a lie."

His shoulders fell, but his eyes never left mine. "You're very right. I didn't tell you everything. There were details that I should-"

"Details?" I gasped. "_Details_?"

"Jason-"

"It's more like one enormous, larger-than-life detail that changes everything I've ever known!" I shouted. "And you could have told me so many times! It's not like you never had a chance."

"Please-"

"My hearing-" A sob broke from my throat. "Just a few months ago I sat on my bed and asked you why this was happening to me!" My voice had gone up in pitch as I tried to hold in my tears. "I ASKED YOU!"

"Jason, please-"

"You could have told me then!"

"I know."

"So, why didn't you?"

He stared back at me, his eyebrows furrowed in a sad, thoughtful way.

"WHY?" I screeched.

"I thought I was protecting you."

I threw my arms up in the air, totally frustrated at the fact that we were right back where we started. "This doesn't make any sense!"

"Sweetheart, you have to calm down." I spun around to find my mother standing behind me.

"Calm down?" Was she serious? "I just found out that everything I've ever known is a lie and you want me to be _calm_?"

She stepped in closer, and I moved back, putting myself directly between my mother and…my father. My real father. I glanced from one to the other. First Mom…and then…_him_. My brain was still trying to process the fact that he was my father. These were my parents. This was really happening.

And then I saw Dad. Richard…is that what I would have to call him from now on?

And who did that make me? Was I still Jason White? Or was I Jason…Kent?

Who was I? I didn't really know anymore.

"I can't…I can't…"

I ran away as fast as I could, wanting to escape from this nightmare. I ran around to the other side of the house and headed into the small group of trees at the back of the property. I could climb up and hide so high that no one would find me. Well…almost no one…

Behind me, I heard Superman…my father…say, "Don't, Richard."

"Don't what? Don't go after him?"

"He needs time to be alone."

"Like hell he does! He's frightened. He's confused. He's just been lied to by the three adults he trusts the most."

"And he needs some time to think. Trust me, I know a little about what he's going through."

"Oh, that's right. I forgot," Dad mocked. "You know Jason so _very_ well. You know him better than I do!"

"I never said that." Superman said quietly.

"Let's get something clear right here and now. You may be his father…but he is still _my_ son! Right now, I don't give a damn what you think he needs. I'm going to go find my son and try to help him any way I can."


	7. Age 10 and a half: Biology 102

_AN: Here's part two of the night where Jason's life changed for good. From the feedback I'm getting thus far, everyone is starting to better understand how it is that I came to see Jason as a possible wounded soul in this mess that Supes and Lois created for him. Through this all, I do want to stress that Supes really does think he's doing what Jason wants him to do – that he is doing the right thing by Jason. In some of the reviews, a few of you have said how much you want to slap Supes for how is he handling the situation. But remember that this is Jason's PoV and not Supes. Maybe I'll come back and show you what I imagine Supes is thinking through all of this – how much he wants to hold Jason and tell him how much he loves him and how much he means to him – and yet he feels he just can't. So yeah, he's messing up, but he doesn't realize it just yet._

_Many many thanks to the betas – htbthomas and Hellish. I don't know where htbthomas finds the time to read all this stuff! And Hellish – your last e-mail had me grinning from ear to ear!_

_And thank you, my repeat readers, for letting me know what you like and don't like. I really do thrive off of feedback and constantly need more! Thank you for your patience as I get this story finished. I still have a long way to go!_

**Age 10 and a Half – Biology 102**

It took me all of two seconds to realize that it would be impossible to really hide. How do you hide from someone who can see through any door, break down any wall, fly up to the top of the tallest tree? There literally was no _place_ to hide.

Giving up and wanting desperately to be surrounded by something familiar, I turned and ran back into the house, up the stairs to my room where I threw myself down on my bed. The door was shattered and off the hinge, so I knew I wouldn't have privacy here. It would only be a matter of minutes before he showed up. Superman… my… father.

With my face buried in my pillow, I cried as loudly as I could, trying to get it all out before he came in to talk about it. I didn't want to cry in front of him, and surely he would come up here. He'd probably want to tell me how sorry he was and how much he wanted to do anything he can to make it right. That's the type of thing grown-ups always say. Not that there really was anything anyone could do or say make _this_ right. Still, adults say things like that when they didn't know what else to say.

And then he'd tell me what would be expected of me. After all, he was _Superman_! He was the hero to end all heroes. He was famous and loved – almost worshipped. And I…I was his son. As much as my brain fought against the thought, I couldn't deny it. And now that I knew the deepest of all his secrets, he wouldn't be able to deny it either. I could already hear his baritone in my imagination. _"Jason, you're my son, and with that position comes certain responsibilities." _

And what would I say to him? I couldn't very well say no. Or could I?

"_No thanks, I don't want to be your son."_

Unfortunately, it didn't work that way.

Would I have to live with him now? Would I have to pretend to be a bumbling reporter so no one would know who I really was?

Would I get X-ray vision? Laser vision? Would I be able to _fly_?

I had so many questions, and only one person could answer them all. But how could I trust anything _he_ would say now that I knew he had been lying to me for so long?

I heard footsteps in the hall. I felt the bed sag as he sat down. He placed his hand on my back. I held my breath, waiting for the inevitable.

"I'm so sorry, Jason."

I jumped. That wasn't Superman's voice. It was…

"Dad?" I said, turning my head on my pillow to see him

His brows were furrowed, but he forced his mouth to turn up into a smile. "Hey, Kiddo." He looked at me with such concern. I don't think I've ever seen him so worried. "I know you said you wanted to be alone, but Jason…" He shook his head. "I'm so, _so_ sorry. You may doubt this right now, but I do love you. I love you so much."

Instinctively, I sat up and wrapped my arms around him, holding on as tight as I could. He held me to his chest, bending his head over mine as if he could cover me with his body and block out all the pain I was feeling.

"What happens now?" I mumbled into his shirt.

"I don't know, Jason," he said, and I appreciated the honesty. "This is new territory to all of us, so we're just going to have to play this by ear."

"Will I still stay here with you and Mom?"

"Where else would you go?"

"With him," I choked.

Dad sighed. "No, Jason. This is your home. You can stay here…I want you to stay here."

Slowly, I sat up and hesitantly looked into his face. "What do I call you now?"

He swallowed. "Whatever you are comfortable with. If you want to call me—"

"Dad. I want to call you Dad."

He wet his lips and nodded. "I like that."

Mom's footsteps were on the stairs.

"Can you…" I couldn't believe I was about to ask this question. "Do you think you could adopt me?"

His brows went up in surprise. "Adopt you?"

I nodded. "So I could be your son again."

His arms wrapped around me again, hugging me close enough to him that I could hear his heart pounding loudly in his chest.

From the doorway, Mom gasped, which let Dad know we weren't alone. "He wants me to adopt him," he said with an unfamiliar, raspy voice.

"I heard," Mom replied, coming into the room and sitting down on the other side of the bed. "Honey, Richard doesn't have to adopt you. Legally, you belong to him."

I looked from my mom to my dad to make sure it was the truth. "Really? You adopted me a long time ago?"

"No," Dad said. "I never had to adopt you. I've always been…" He licked his lips again. "When you were born, I thought that I… well… I didn't know—" He ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know how to explain this."

"Let me," Mom said, touching Dad's knee and then looking directly into my eyes. "I should have told you this a long time ago, Jason. It was stupid of me to think I could wait this long to tell you."

She took a deep breath before continuing. "Before you were born, some scientists thought they discovered Krypton. You know what that is, right?"

I trembled upon hearing the name. "That's his planet."

"Yes, and these scientists thought that they found it – that it wasn't destroyed. They thought it still existed, and when Superman learned about it, he wanted to make sure it was true. That's why he left earth for those five years or so.

"Now, around the same time that he left, I met Richard," she looked at Dad, "and we fell in love. So when I found out that I was pregnant, I… naturally… assumed that Richard was your father."

Dad shifted on the bed, pursing his lips and trying to hide the fact that his heart was racing. I could hear it loud and clear. It didn't surprise me that Mom's heart was doing the exact same thing.

"I didn't know for several years that you weren't Richard's son," Mom confessed. "I had my suspicions, but… no real proof."

"Then how do you know I'm not?" I quipped. "Maybe I _am_ his son!"

"Jason," Dad said shaking his head. "All the things you can do… all your abilities… those don't come from me or your mother."

"But how can you know for sure? I mean, what about blood tests and stuff?" I was determined to have solid proof.

"It's difficult to do a blood test, considering that Superman doesn't bleed," Dad explained slowly.

That was it! That was all I needed to hear. "That proves it then. I can't be his son because I can get hurt. I can bleed. You can hurt me. You can cut me!" I'd never been so excited about the fact that I was prone to injury in my entire life.

"Yes, you can," Mom said. "But don't forget that you're _my_ son, too. Part of you is human."

What little joy I felt only a moment before completely vanished. Part of me was human. Only part. And the other part was…

I looked down at my hands, feeling totally lost. "So, what's going to happen to me?" I looked up at Mom. "What do I do now?"

She smiled at me and I could tell that it was forced. "You… grow up. You learn how to do these amazing things."

"And what about _him_?" I asked weakly.

"What do you mean?"

I shrugged. "Do I… I mean… will he…" I had so many questions, and he wasn't here to answer them. "Where is he?"

Mom stroked my hair. "I think he assumed you needed some time alone – that you wanted time to think about everything. But he will come back."

I wasn't sure if she was saying that to convince herself or me. She didn't say it with any real enthusiasm.

"And then what?" I asked.

She pursed her lips and looked over at Dad. It was Dad who said, "We'll take it one day at a time, Jason."

I curled up in a ball against his side and let him hold me. I felt so alone – more alone than I ever had in my entire life. What I needed was to feel the strength and support of someone who cared about me – someone who loved me. Dad held me tight and didn't let me go until I was ready, which was a long time.

I sniffed and sat up, wiping at my face. "I broke my piano," I said remorsefully.

"We'll get a new one," Dad assured.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to break it."

"Don't worry about it, honey," Mom said.

"I'm tired," I announced, knowing that they would leave. It was a strange thing, wanting to know I wasn't alone, and yet at the same time needing a chance to truly _be_ alone.

"Okay," Mom said, standing up and pulling Dad with her. "We'll let you get some rest and have some time to yourself."

"We'll just be downstairs," Dad reminded me.

"So if you need anything-"

"I know," I said. "I just – I need to lay down and think for a little while."

"Okay, honey," Mom said with a soft smile. "You're sure?"

I nodded. Truth was, I wasn't sure of anything, but I wasn't about to show them how completely confused I was. They left the room, making their way around my broken door, and headed downstairs. I could hear them in the front room picking up pieces of my piano and trying to reason with each other.

"I'm not sure he should be alone right now."

"It's what he wants."

"That look in his eyes – that look of total hurt and rejection – that was the look I was trying to avoid."

"I know, Richard. Do you think I wanted him to find out this way?"

"We should have told him."

"I know! I _know_ I was wrong and I _know_ I messed up. Now please, can we just…clean this up and focus on making sure Jason is all right?"

It was quiet for a moment.

"I know I screwed up, Richard. I _know_."

She was crying. I could hear her soft sobs. I could see in my mind that Dad was holding her the way he had just held me. Comforting her.

But where was _he_? Where was Superman? I glanced out the window, expecting to see him floating outside, but he wasn't there. Why wasn't he here? Now when I needed him the most. I was certain he would show up if I called out to him…but I didn't want to have to ask. I shouldn't have to ask. He should just be here. That's his job, isn't it? That's his job as… my father.

I flopped onto my stomach, burying my face into my pillow and wishing for the world to vanish around me. The hands that clung to the pillow seemed unfamiliar – alien. The heart-beat thudding away in my chest suddenly sounded foreign – alien. The very skin holding my awkward body together didn't feel real anymore. I didn't feel real. I didn't feel _right_. I didn't feel like me…because I didn't really know who I was anymore.

I had powers – not talents – _powers_. I wasn't fully human. I was strong. I was fast. I had sensitive hearing. What was next? And how would that power show itself? I learned I was fast from running away from kids who wanted to pick on me. I learned I had sensitive hearing from listening to my coach at a ball game. I learned I was strong by pushing a piano.

And then I realized…I had hurt someone. How many more would I hurt as I got stronger and more powerful?

The situation was so very complex that I couldn't absorb it in full, not all at once. My mind was still reeling, trying to process it all and help stabilize my emotions, but it wasn't working fast enough. The more I thought about it, the more lost I felt, until I couldn't contain the pain I felt inside of me any longer.

I cried into my pillow like a baby. I'd never been told that it wasn't right for boys to cry. When I was hurt or sick or afraid, I knew it was all right to cry. But I couldn't remember ever feeling this hurt, sick, or afraid in my whole life. I cried to express that, and I found that I just couldn't stop.

Footsteps sounded up the stairs and into my room. I knew it was Mom from the soft way her feet padded against the floor.

"Sweetheart?" She sat down on the bed and rubbed my back.

I was still crying, and I knew talking would be difficult, but somehow I managed to say, "I'm afraid, Mom."

"What are you afraid of?" she probed gently.

"I don't know if I can do this." My voice broke as I spoke through the tears. I tilted my head just enough so that I could make eye contact with her. "He really is my father? I mean… you're sure he's my father?"

She swallowed. "He really is your father, Jason."

I sobbed into my pillow. "I don't know how to be like this."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know how to be…" I had to say it. "Superman. I don't _want_ to be Superman. I don't know how to control it – how to stop it!"

"You can't stop it, Jason," she said, trying to soothe away my fears with the brush of her hand against my cheek. "This is who you are. But you can learn how to control it."

She didn't understand. "But when it just happens… I never know that's it's going to happen. I mean… that man… on the boat…"

"What man?"

"The one I…" I shifted so that I could look at her again. "I killed him, didn't I? I killed him when I shoved that piano across the room."

Mom's face looked worried, but she answered firmly. "Yes."

"So, how many more people could I end up killing? I mean, I don't know how to be _like_ this. I don't know anything about it!"

"Jason, how can you say that? This is the only way you've ever been. It's the only thing you _do_ know."

I sat up. "But I didn't understand it!"

"No, but now you do."

"So what?" I wiped at my face. "I'm supposed to be happy about it?"

"No," she took my hand in hers. "You can learn about it – learn from him. He will help you, I know he will."

I snorted. "Yeah, he's been a big help tonight."

"Jason," she said in a very parental, solid tone. "He's always been there, whether you knew it or not. He's been there whenever we needed his help."

"Except for tonight," I countered.

"Do you want me to have him come and—"

"No," I shook my head.

She sighed. "You ran away from him, honey. One of the things I know for certain about him is that when someone he cares about asks him to leave… he does. Now, if you want to talk to him, he'll come back."

I sniffed. "He cares about me?"

She looked shocked. "Honey, he loves you! Of course he cares about you."

I couldn't look at her. I knew better than she did. I knew things she didn't know. Secrets that cut right to the core. "You don't know, Mom."

"I do know."

"No, trust me. There are some things that you really _don't_ know."

"Then tell me."

I looked into her eyes. In that moment, I could have told her everything I knew. I could have explained that if he really cared about me the way she was saying, Clark Kent could have told me. Clark Kent could have been more than some idiot reporter who worked with my mom. Clark Kent could have been my father. I could have told her and changed everything, and yet for some reason that I couldn't explain, I held back. I kept quiet. I kept his secret.

"Honey," she said, brushing my hair out of my eyes. "We'll get through this, we all will. Richard and I love you. Your father…loves you. We will all help you in whatever ways we can."

I looked down at my hands as they twisted and pulled at the bed covers and automatically responded with an unenthusiastic, "Yeah. I know."

She cupped my face in her hands. "I love you. I know I've screwed up, but I do love you."

My chin quivered. "I love you, too, Mom."

She hugged me and waited for my tears to stop before breaking away. "Do you think you can sleep?"

I shrugged.

"Try to sleep."

I nodded.

Mom left the room and I looked back out my window. I didn't see any blue. Nor red. Just night. I wondered if Mom would head outside and call to him to come and see me. I didn't want him to come if he didn't want to come. I needed to see him, but only if he wanted to see me, too.

Quickly, before I talked myself out of it, I hopped out of bed and darted over to my window. It was unlocked, as usual. I never locked my window in the hopes that Superman would decide to visit me at night. But this night was different than any others. Tonight I wasn't waiting for Superman to grace me with a visit. Tonight I was desperate for my father to come and tell me everything would be all right. Be he wasn't here. And I didn't want him here just because my mom asked him to talk to me.

And so that night, for the first time that I could remember, I locked my window.


	8. Age 11: Rants and Raves

_AN: I first wanted to explain that if you are on my author alert list, you will be notified shortly of a new Clois fic that I've written for the 12 Days of Clois Christmas fic-a-thon going on over at LJ. This fic is set WAY in the future of the Jason story line I've started here, so those of you who've thought I've been cruel to Lois and Clark by keeping them apart…well…you will want to read this fic. There is a teaser already posted at the LJ: I'd give you a link, but won't let me. Grrr..._

_I'm so very glad that many of you enjoy seeing this side of Jason and that no one has thrown rotten tomatoes at me yet! It's going to get a LOT worse before it gets better. Jason has quite a bit to say in this chapter. As you read this section, try to hear his voice high pitched, not yet mature, and rambling on uncontrollably. If you've read Shadow of Father, you may remember him doing much the same thing when he tells Kate his story. Hopefully from this, you can see how he grew up to be that very angry, hurt young man. _

_Thanks to htbthomas and to Hellish for the beta reads. They worked over time this week to get this chapter, as well as my Clois fic finished. You both ROX! _

_Next chapter… Supes takes Jason to see his "home."_

**Age 11 – Rants and Raves**

The cold winter wind whipped around me, making me shiver and pull my coat closed. I wished spring would hurry up and get here so I could stop shivering as I waited outside my school. Mom was late, as usual, but there wasn't anything I could do about it. Dad was on assignment, so there wasn't anyone else who could come and pick me up from school. Well… there was someone else, but I hadn't seen him in over four months. Not since I found out the truth about him… and about me.

At least I wasn't waiting all alone. I'd made friends with a boy from another class named Marcus. His mom was a lawyer and she was always late picking him up. His parents were divorced and his dad lived in California, so we were always stuck together waiting outside the school.

"There's my mom," Marcus said, jumping down from the wall we were sitting on. "You want me to ask if you can come home with me?"

I shook my head. "Nah, I'm sure Mom just got caught up with a story. She'll be here soon."

"Jason?" Marcus' mom called from the car. "Honey, you can come home with us. I don't feel right leaving you here all by yourself."

I knew exactly why she was worried. Over the last six weeks, some crazy psycho had been kidnapping kids and holding them for ransom. The police hadn't been able to catch the guy yet, even with the help of… Superman. Once the money was dropped, the kid would mysteriously appear in some random location that only Superman could reach easily – on top of buildings, out in the middle of the water, locked inside a steel vault. There had been six kidnappings in total – one a week. And so far this week, no one had reported a missing child. It was only a matter of time before some other kid went missing. Parents all over the city were on edge.

"Why don't you come with us? I'll call your mom and—"

My cell phone went off in my pocket. I jumped down from my perch and flipped the phone open to see Mom's name on the caller ID. "It's my mom. You can go ahead and go."

"Are you sure?" Marcus asked.

"Yeah, she's probably just around the corner."

"Okay, Jason," Marcus waved and climbed into the car. "See you later!"

I pressed the answer button and put the phone to my ear. "Hi, Mom."

"Hi, honey. I'm sorry I'm late."

"It's okay." I was used to waiting. "How much longer d'you think you'll be?"

She sighed. "Well, that's the problem. I'm not going to be able to get away for a while yet. I just got a call from someone I need to interview tonight. So you'll be on your own for a little while."

I grinned. That meant I could go to the store and get some chips and a soda. Mom never let me eat stuff like that. "You want me to get a cab for myself and head home? Dad gave me some money before he left."

"No, honey, I'd feel a lot better if you had an adult with you."

"Well, my friend Marcus just left with his mom and I don't know any of the other kids still here well enough to hitch a ride."

"I know. That's why I asked Clark if he wouldn't mind picking you up."

It was as if all the blood drained from my body. "What?"

"He should be there by now. Look around, will you?"

I looked over my shoulder and sure enough, there stood Clark Kent. Or Superman. Or whatever I was supposed to call him. He waved at me, a soft smile on his face.

I turned away with a groan. "Mom, no. I don't need a babysitter."

"I know you don't, Jason, but with all these kidnappings going on, I just want you to be safe. So, Clark is just going to make sure you get home safely and then you'll be on your own."

"But Mom, I'll be okay. I've taken a taxi alone before."

I felt a hand on my shoulder and before I could react, the phone left my hand.

"Hi, Lois," he said into the receiver. "Yeah, I'm here and he's just fine."

I scowled at him.

"He looks a little angry, though." It was that stupid, phony, idiot voice of his.

I rolled my eyes.

"Yeah, I know. I'll have him call you when he gets home. Bye, Lois."

I huffed and crossed my arms in front of my chest. He held the phone out for me to take. I just glared at him for a moment before I angrily swiped it away from him.

"I don't need a babysitter," I growled.

"Your mom was just worried about you."

"Which is more than I can say for you."

"Jason, I worry about you. I just—"

I didn't have time to listen to his excuses. I knew he was only here because my mom asked him to be – which was exactly what I _didn't_ want. Raising my arm high in the air, I called, "Taxi!" as loudly as I could.

"What are you doing?" he asked from behind me.

I didn't turn around to answer. "I'm doing the hula; what does it look like I'm doing?" Then once again I called, "Taxi!"

"We don't have to take a taxi, Jason. We can…you know…" He pointed into the air as if I were too stupid to figure out his meaning.

I ignored him, not wanting to give him the advantage of being in control of the situation. "Taxi!" I yelled a third time.

To my surprise, he stepped in front of me and whistled. The next taxi came to a screeching halt at the curb. I squinted up at him, unwilling to thank him, and climbed into the car. Rather than sliding over to the other side so that he could get in behind me, I slammed the door, forcing him to walk around the car and get in on the other side.

"Three twelve Riverside Drive," I told the driver, and then turned my body to the side to look out the window.

As the car drove away from the curb, I made a vow that I wasn't going to be the one to talk first. There were so many things I wanted to say to him, so many things that I wanted to ask, but he had hurt me by not contacting me in the last several months. I wasn't about to make this easy for him and open up to him as if nothing had happened – as if he hadn't been avoiding me. I wasn't the same little boy that I was four months ago. I no longer thought of him as the world's greatest protector, but rather as the world's worst father figure.

"Are you going to talk to me?" he asked quietly.

I let my silence answer for me as we drove over the South Side bridge.

A few moments later he said, "I've been worried about you."

I tutted, but didn't turn to look at him. Trees outside passed by in a blur, signaling our trip was thankfully nearing an end.

"Jason, will you please look at me?"

I bit my lip, wanting to say something to him, but forcing myself to stay facing away from him. He avoided me for all this time, and it hurt. I wanted him to know what it felt like to be ignored, even if it didn't matter all that much to him.

The taxi pulled up in front of my house and I quickly paid the driver and climbed out of the car. Without even saying good-bye, I slammed the car door and walked up to the house. I had just managed to unlock the door when I heard his voice from behind me.

"We really need to talk about this."

I spun around to face him. "What are you doing? Why didn't you leave with the taxi?"

"I promised Lois I would make sure you got home safely."

"I'm home. I'm safe. So you can go now."

"I'd really like to talk with you, Jason."

"About what?" I spat.

He looked confused. "About…us."

"If it was so important for you to talk to me," I scoffed, "you wouldn't have waited this long to see me."

Turning my back on him, I flung open the door to my house and slammed it in his face before he could try to convince me to listen to him. He got me to acknowledge him, but at least I had held my ground and kept him out of the house.

"Jason," he said. "There are some things we need to talk about, so either you let me in and we can talk in private or I can say what I need to say out here. Just so that you hear me."

Yeah, like he'd really risk someone hearing him talking to his _son_. I rolled my eyes and picked up the phone, dialing my mom's cell phone. "I'm calling my mom to tell her that you are _gone_!" I yelled at him. The phone clicked. "Hi, Mom," I said when she answered.

"Oh, good, you're home. Is Clark still there?"

"No, he just left," I said loudly, making sure he would hear me. "And Mom, don't ever ask him to watch me again."

"Why?"

"Because he's an idiot," I stressed, only for his benefit.

"Oh, Jason. Stop it."

"I'm serious, Mom. The guy really drives me insane." Let him chew on that one for a while.

"Well at least you're home safe. I should be able to get out of here in about an hour, okay?"

She said she'd pick up dinner on her way home and that I should stay away from the TV until my homework was finished. And then the line went dead. I hung up the phone and walked back to the door, wondering if he was still out there or if he had taken the hint and flown away. I considered opening the door to look and actually stood with my hand on the doorknob for about a minute while I thought about what I wanted to say to him.

"Open the door, Jason," I heard him say softly.

So he _was_ still there.

"Please," he coaxed. "I won't come in unless you say it's all right."

I huffed, closing my eyes and thinking long and hard about what would happen if I told him to go away. Would he really just go away and leave me alone? Or would he fight me and demand that I open the door? And did I really want him to go? Truth was, no, I wanted him to fight me for it. I wanted him to stand up to me the way a parent should stand up to a disobedient child. I just didn't know how far I could push before I really got in trouble.

"I can see that you want to open the door, Jason," he declared.

That made me mad, and gave me the excuse I needed to find the courage to open the door. "You know, that's really annoying," I said angrily, swinging the door wide open. "If I had X-ray vision, I wouldn't spy on people like that."

"I wasn't spying on you, I was watching you," he said.

"What's the difference?"

"The difference is that you knew I was out here."

"No, I didn't."

"That whole conversation with your mother was for my benefit. You wanted me to hear that conversation…and I deserved it." His gaze held mine for a moment. "And I think that you need to be careful with what you say because it's very likely that someday you will have X-ray vision."

I felt like I had been hit in the gut. "Really?"

His shoulders fell as he exhaled a deep breath. "That's one of the things we need to talk about. Now, may I please come in?"

I hesitated, but only for a moment. Giving in, I backed away from the door and motioned with my arm for him to enter. He did, looking grateful and at the same time slightly uncomfortable. I gently closed the door and walked into the living room where I plopped down on the sofa. He followed behind, taking a seat in the chair across from me and looking very nervous.

Twenty seconds passed as we sat there quietly. I know because I counted the ticks of the grandfather clock. Not wanting to look at him, I kept my focus on the floor in front of me. I wasn't sure what he was going to say, but I was nervous all the same. He'd probably tell me what he expected from me and how I was supposed to live this new life of mine. There was probably some kind of superhero code I'd have to learn or rules I'd have to follow. I'd once heard Mom say that there were things Superman wasn't allowed to do and I always wondered what those things were. Maybe now he would tell me.

"So," he started, "your mom said you got a new piano."

I blinked in confusion. "What?"

"Your piano. Lois told me that you got a new one."

I couldn't figure out what that had to do with X-ray vision. "Yeah… so?"

"Just… that's… nice."

Was he kidding me? This was his first time to talk to me in four months and he was asking about my piano?

"How's school going?" he asked casually.

I wanted to rip my hair out. Why was he asking such stupid questions? "School? You want to know about school?"

"Yes, of course. Is there a reason I shouldn't ask about school?"

"I'm just wondering why." I felt the pressure inside of me build and I couldn't hold it in. "Did you read some stupid parental guidebook that told you to start with small talk? Chapter five – how to begin a conversation with a son you've ignored for four months."

"Jason—"

"School sucks, okay!" I spat out. "It completely and totally sucks."

His face hardened. I'd obviously pushed hard enough to get a real reaction this time.

"Lois told me you were having… difficulties."

I laughed. "Difficulties. That's one way to put it, I guess."

"Well, how would you put it?"

I wet my lips and looked away, feeling so tense and frustrated and wanting more than anything to just curl up into a ball and wish the world away. I didn't know how to admit to him that I wasn't doing so well. He was Superman. He was invincible. And I… I was failing miserably at everything right now. I didn't want him to know how bad things were… and yet I needed him to know. I needed him to help me – to tell me that he could make things right – the way a father should. And so out it spilled.

"I can't concentrate," I started slowly. "I hear everything – which, by the way," I looked him in the eyes, "thanks for that." My eyes darted back to the floor. "I only manage to focus on about half of the things I need to hear at school. Just when I think I'm getting the hang of it, I miss something and end up failing a test. Not to mention that my mind starts wandering all the time now. I'm always thinking about what's going on… why you won't come and see me… what's going to happen to me. Not knowing… it makes concentrating ten times harder." I swallowed hard, embarrassed and somewhat surprised that I'd actually admitted so much to him. And yet there was more that needed to be said.

"My friends - well, what friends I still have – think I'm stupid or something for failing all my classes. That I've got ADD or something. I mean, I have all these other illnesses. Why wouldn't I have ADD? And the kids I used to think were my friends are all making fun of me now since I don't play ball anymore. They think I've lost my mind for giving up ball to play the piano. Not that playing the piano isn't okay or that I don't like it, because I do. It's just that the guys think I must be some sort of sissy for being more interested in music than sports. I could get away with taking piano lessons as long as I was playing ball, too. Now that I can't play ball, 'cause the noise is just too distracting, they think I'm some sort of freak. And it turns out that I am some sort of freak."

It was like the dam had opened and everything I'd been holding inside of me for the last four months came spilling out in an endless, unchecked torrent. It surprised me somewhat that Clark just sat there and let me rant. I half expected him to stop me, but he didn't. And neither did I. I sat forward in my seat and pressed on.

"But I'm not allowed to tell anyone about being a freak, even when I'm asked point blank. 'Cause see, my history teacher got the paper out the other day. With all these kidnappings, your picture is on the front page more than ever now. So, she thought it would be a good time for us to learn all about Superman and where you're from and why you are here and what you can and can't do. And I'm sitting through the class ready to crawl under my desk and just die, when she calls on me. She says – to the whole class – 'Jason knows Superman. He's even flown with him. Tell us, Jason, what Superman is really like.' Now how am I supposed to respond to that?"

My anger was growing as the pitch and volume of my voice rose. Clark's expression went from concerned to downright worried. His frown deepened, and I enjoyed it.

"What exactly was I supposed to say to her? 'Oh, jeepers, Mrs. Holt. He's swell!' When in reality, I want to tell her that you are nothing but a liar. You've lied to me, you've lied to my mom, you've lied to everyone on this planet – that you aren't the Mr. Wonderful that everyone thinks you are. But no, I can't say that. I'm not allowed. It might clue people into the fact that I know you a little bit better than you are willing to admit."

That reminded me of something else I was livid about. "And speaking of not being able to say anything, I have to put up with Mom coming home nearly every day with some idiotic story about some stupid thing you did at work. As if I don't get enough of you on the TV or in the paper or on posters, I also get your name shoved in my face at home! 'Oh, that Clark, he's so silly!' And I just want to scream at her to shut up about you, but I can't because she doesn't know who you really are! And to top it all off, she's covering the whole kidnapping thing right now. So she talks about Clark and Superman at the same time and it completely drives me insane!"

My arms were flailing now, punctuating my harsh words. My voice was cracking as I fought back tears. But I couldn't stop. I had to get this out of me or I thought I might explode.

"Not to mention that the couple of real friends that I do have – that are nice to me even though I am acting all crazy right now – are also caught up in this whole kidnapping thing. I mean, you're everywhere! It's all anyone can talk about – not that they didn't talk about you before, but saving all these kids left and right has been nothing but torture for me. Every other conversation in the halls is about what Superman is going to have to do next to save whoever is lucky enough to get kidnapped next. 'Cause that's what everyone thinks – that these kids are lucky to get rescued by Superman, lucky to spend time flying with _you_. Do you know that I've actually heard kids talking about trying to get themselves kidnapped just so you will have to save them – so that you'll pay attention to them? I want to say to all of them, 'Good luck getting Superman to pay attention to you. I'm his kid and he won't even pay attention to me!'"

"Jason, that's not—" he hissed.

And I blew up. "It's been FOUR MONTHS!" I shouted at him, standing up. "Four _friggin_' months! And you won't even talk to me! Four months that I'm left thinking – where is he? Why won't he come see me? What have I done that he won't come and talk to me? I know you're busy and all, but you've got time to save all those other kids. Not just save them but stop and take pictures with them and make press statements all for publicity, while I'm here wondering when you're going to come to see _me_. It was _Christmas_ and you didn't come. I had a _birthday_ and you didn't come. You've got time to go save some stranger, but you don't have any time for me!"

He stood up, reaching out to me. "Jason—"

"I AM YOUR SON!" I raged.

My words hung in the air, waiting for his reply. But all he did was stare back at me, looking stunned and very worried.

"I'm your son," I repeated, feeling hot tears in my eyes. "I shouldn't have to wait four months for you to acknowledge me."

His eyes drilled into me with an intensity I'd never felt before. My stomach lurched and my legs felt weak. Quickly, I sat down, hiding my eyes from him, not wanting him to see me cry.

The clock was ticking away in the hall. Ten seconds. I tried to casually wipe at my face to get rid of the tears. Fifteen seconds. I pulled my legs up underneath me, wanting to disappear. Twenty. My heart was beating very fast now, waiting for him to say something – anything. Twenty-five.

"I did come to see you." His voice was soft and gentle.

But I didn't believe him. "No, you didn't."

"I came every night for two weeks."

I snorted. "Nice effort. What do you want – an award for parent of the year?

"Your window was locked," he said, trying to sound unaffected by my biting words.

"And what was wrong with you that you couldn't just open the window? It wasn't like it was made of kryptonite."

"I wasn't going to break into your room, Jason. You locked your window for a reason. I took that as a sign that you didn't want to see me."

He was right, of course, but it didn't change anything. Mom and Dad would never have given up so easily. In fact, they didn't give up. They talked to me. They told me over and over again that they would help me through this and that they loved me. Mom would never have let me lock her out – or let me say such awful things like I had said to him tonight. I'd be grounded so fast, I wouldn't know what hit me.

But this wasn't Mom. Or Dad – Richard. This was Clark. And I was learning very quickly that he didn't play by the normal parent-child rules.

"I haven't locked my window in over a month," I pointed out.

"I know," he said, sitting down and trying to look me in the eyes. "And I have been to see you."

I scowled. "When?"

"I've actually come by several times, but you've been asleep."

I huffed. "So, why didn't you wake me up?"

"Because Lois told me that you had difficulty sleeping lately, with the hearing and… and everything on your mind. I didn't want to wake you up when you needed your rest."

"Then come when I'm just going to bed." Did I have to think of everything? Was he really that clueless? "Or better yet, come when I'm awake. Come like…now…when we could talk. I mean, gosh, this isn't brain surgery; this is talking to your kid! What is so difficult about that?"

"It's difficult—" he stopped and sighed, closing his eyes and running a hand through his hair. "It's difficult because I can't come here as Clark when Lois or Richard is here. I can only come as Superman. And if Superman showed up in the daytime to talk to you that would draw attention."

"So?"

"Jason, you don't seem to understand how much danger I could put you in by coming here too frequently. Especially with all these kidnappings."

"Why?" I groaned, frustrated and feeling like he wasn't telling me everything. Like always. "You think someone's going to kidnap me?"

"Yes," he said without hesitation.

"Why?" I sneered. "Because I'm your son?"

His eyes held fast to mine as I waited for his answer. Softly, as he if were afraid of the word, he said, "Yes."

My stomach did a sort of flip-flop. "But no one knows."

"That's why I needed to talk to you. Have you said anything to anyone? Anything at all?"

It was then that I realized he hadn't come to talk to me because he cared about me and needed me to understand that he would help me. He had come over here today to figure out if I was telling anyone. He was worried I would ruin his little secret! "I didn't tell anyone!" I snapped. "And even if I did, who would believe me? I have a hard time believing it myself."

He frowned. "You're sure you didn't tell anyone? Not even a little slip?"

"No!" I bellowed. "You think I want people to know I'm an alien?"

He sighed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and suddenly looking very serious. "I didn't mean to accuse you, Jason. I just – I've been so anxious to talk to you – to make sure you understand how careful you have to be. These kidnappings…" He took a deep breath. "I haven't known any of the children. I haven't known any of their parents. I've done hours of research trying to put some kind of a connection to all the victims, and I keep coming up short. The only connection they have is that they are all held for the same amount of ransom money, and the kids are left in situation that only I can easily get them out of. And then there are the letters – and this hasn't been in the press, so you can't say anything about the letters to anyone. But each one of the children had a letter… for me. Now, I don't know why, but these kidnappings are about me. I'm the target. But what has me worried sick is that the real target in all of this… is you."

I gulped, feeling suddenly worried myself.

"I've wanted to talk to you – I've been desperate to talk to you. And not just because of this, but for all the reasons _you've_ wanted to talk to _me_. So, when Lois asked me to pick you up at school today, I jumped at the chance. It provided me with the perfect opportunity to talk to you for more than two minutes without raising any suspicion. I can't come here as Superman. Do you understand that now?"

A part of me understood, but that didn't mean I wanted to admit it to him.

"Jason?"

When I didn't answer him, he sighed heavily and slumped back against his chair, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. He placed his glasses on the side table and ran both of his hands through his hair in frustration. I watched him, amazed and baffled at how stunning the transformation was. It was as if Clark Kent vanished and Superman appeared right in front of my eyes. It was so strange to see him like that. He was Superman, and yet he was dressed in normal clothing. My breath hitched and I shivered as I realized that he looked… like me.

"I can't stand that you're angry at me, Jason," he said. "You're very right – I shouldn't have waited so long to talk to you. That was very wrong of me, and I'm so, so sorry," he apologized. "What can I do to make this better? Tell me what you need me to do and I will do it."

I pursed my lips, thinking of all the things I wanted – all the questions I had – and settled on the biggest question I had right now. "Well, what's going to happen to me?"

"How do you mean?"

"You said I'd get X-ray vision. Will I… be able to do all the things you can do?"

"I don't know," he said honestly. "I really don't know. A part of you is human. You're… different from me."

I was different from _everyone_. And hearing him say it didn't make me feel any better. He must have sensed this, because he stopped talking and stood up to pace around the room. My eyes followed him as he nervously shifted from one foot to the other, scratching his head before turning to face me. It seemed to me that he was trying to decide if he wanted to leave or if he should stay.

"I'm not doing a very good job, am I?" he mumbled with his back to me now. "I've been so anxious to talk to you, and now that I'm here I find that I don't know_ how_ to talk to you."

To my utter surprise, he walked over to the sofa and sat down right beside me, his body turned just enough so that he could look at me plainly. "I'm not human, Jason. I'm not. But I need you to understand one of the reasons my father sent me here to earth – specifically – is that on many levels, I'm not that different. It's my blood that makes me different."

I looked up at him questioningly.

He leaned in to me, "Yes, I do have blood. It might not be as accessible as yours is, but I do have blood. And because earth's son is yellow and not red, my blood reacts in a way that makes it possible for me to do some amazing things. Now, there are a few other factors to some of the things I can do. I have a different molecular structure. The density of my body—"

He stopped when he noticed that I wasn't really able to understand everything he was explaining.

"I'm not a doctor," he said. "And I can't take a blood sample from you and ask a doctor to compare it to mine. So I don't know just what part of you is human and what part of you is Kryptonian. I can't tell you what you'll be able to do, because there _is_ a difference. I can tell that all ready – from the way you talk about your hearing and that you have difficulty concentrating on one voice."

"You don't have trouble with it?" I asked anxiously.

"I did – very briefly. But I quickly learned how to tune it in and out. Kind of like tuning in a radio station. I don't have trouble in crowds like you do."

"Great," I sighed. "So I'll never be able to control it."

"I didn't say that," he corrected quickly. "I said that it's different for you, but I'm sure you'll learn to control it. And that goes the same for any other ability that you may or may not develop. We just have to wait and see."

I looked down at my hands resting in my lap, unhappy with the fact that he couldn't be more specific. That's what I wanted to know more than anything, and it made me very afraid that he couldn't at least tell me when or what might happen to me.

Gently, I felt his hand touch my knee. My body froze as I watched how hesitantly he rested his hand against my knee – as if he were afraid to touch me. His fingers twitched slightly, and with an unexpected jerk, he moved his hand over mine, covering it and holding it carefully.

"I know… that it's scary. Believe me, I know. And I know you're frustrated at me for not giving you a more precise answer to your question. Do I think you'll develop more abilities? Yes. But I don't know what they will be, nor can I tell you when it will happen or how easily you'll be able to control it. I can't make you any promises about that other than to say that I will help you. I can't be here every day, Jason. I can't." His voice grew very soft. "But I promise that when you need me, I will be here. If you are hurt, or you are frightened, or you need help in any way, you call for me and I will come."

His hand squeezed mine in what I gathered was a farewell gesture. I looked up into his eyes, needing one more question answered before he left. "What do I call you?" I asked quietly. "Father? Dad? Is there some Kryptonian word that I should know of?"

His face hardened somewhat, his eyes focusing on me so directly and intensely that I felt a shiver run down my spine. His jaw was clenched, and I saw his swallow. "You call me Clark," he said, his voice sounding so different from its normal tone. "Or Superman. Depending on the situation."

He squeezed my hand again, his thumb stroking my skin. "No one can know, Jason. No one can ever know."

My eyes fell, and I reluctantly nodded my head in agreement.

"Until I figure out what's going on with these kidnappings, I want you to promise me that you will be extra careful. If you notice anyone following you, watching you, anything suspicious at all, I want you to tell your mom or Richard right away. Don't even second-guess yourself. If you think something or someone looks strange, then you make sure they know."

"Okay," I agreed.

His eyes searched my face, looking deeply into my eyes as if he were trying to communicate something to me with his mind. I didn't flinch away, not even when he brushed my bangs out of my eyes and cupped my cheek in his hand.

"Jason—" he said, and I noticed that his eyes were wet. Very slowly – quietly – he said, "I need you to know—"

The sound of a car door slamming made us both jump and turn our attention to the front door. "That's Mom," I announced.

Our eyes met, and he frowned.

"You'd better go," I said.

He sighed. "I didn't—"

"Go!" I ordered, hearing the front door opening.

And then he was gone.

Three weeks later, the mystery of the kidnappings was solved. A woman, who had lost her only daughter in an accident when Superman failed to reach her in time, had been behind the whole thing. Clark had been right about the fact that she had been targeting him, but it didn't have anything to do with me. I thought that once the whole incident blew over, I would see him again. But he didn't come.

At the same time, fighting for space on the front page of every newspaper was the story of how escaped prisoner and Superman's long time enemy, Lex Luthor, had been found dead in the basement of an office building. No one knew what he was doing there or how he had died. His neck was broken, but there was no sign of a struggle. Mom and Dad didn't talk much about it other than to say they the world was better off without him.

And things got better for me, too. For one thing, I figured out how to control my hearing. By the time I started seventh grade, I was able to pick out individual sounds. My grades went back to normal, and I started making friends again. But Superman… Clark… never came to visit. And soon I stopped watching the skies for any sign of him.


	9. Age 12 Part One: Kansas

_AN: After all the Clois yumminess that I managed to dish out last week, I'm back to the angst and the general torture of poor Jason White. If you haven't yet seen my fic After All, it's posted here at and you can find it under my author links. Those of you worried that Clark and Lois will never work things out, just might want to take a look and see what I have planned for them. _

_Again, this chapter was supposed to be one chapter that all of a sudden grew into two. I hadn't originally planned for Jason to go to Kansas, but inspiration hit me the other day and BOOM! Jason went to Kansas. LOL! Thus, Jason's visit to the Fortress of Solitude will happen in the next chapter. I hope you enjoy this chapter for the relative calmness of it… because the crap is really gonna hit the fan hard in the next few chapters._

_Many thanks to htbthomas and Hellish for their hard work and devotion to my sad stories. They have read every tragic, angsty moment without complaint! You guys rox!_

**Age 12 Part One – Kansas**

_You have great powers, only some of which you have as yet discovered. While it is forbidden for you to interfere with human history itself, your leadership can stir others to their own capacity for moral betterment._

The deep, rich voice echoed in my mind. The words were unfamiliar to me, but I'd heard this voice before. I just couldn't quite remember where.

_Discover where your strength and power are needed - but always hold in your heart the pride of your special heritage._

I turned my head toward the voice, wanting to see the mysterious man who spoke in such a different way from anything I'd ever heard before.

_You will be different. Sometimes you'll feel like an outcast, but you'll never be alone. You will make my strength your own. You will see my life through your eyes, as your life will be seen through mine. The son becomes the father, and the father becomes the son._

I blinked my eyes open to see only the darkness of the room. My window stood wide open, a breeze blowing the curtains and cooling the air on this warm, spring night. I crawled out of bed and walked over to the window to look outside, certain I would see him there.

And I did. He was hovering in midair, floating along the same level as my window but far enough away that I was afraid he would leave. "Dad, don't go!" I called to him.

He gracefully turned around to smile at me. "I asked you not to call me that, Jason."

I blushed. It was just so difficult to call him Superman. I didn't have any problem calling him Clark, but I wasn't allowed to call him that when he was wearing his costume. "I'm sorry. I just… I thought I heard you talking to me."

He smiled and floated closer to my window.

"I haven't seen you in a long time," I complained.

"I know, but I have seen you."

"You have?"

"I've been watching you very closely. You've been trying to develop your powers."

I bit my bottom lip. "I just… wanted to see what I could do."

"I was watching the night you turned on all the televisions in the house as loudly as they would go and then asked your mother to speak to you very quietly."

I grinned up at him, so proud of myself for what I had learned to do. "I heard her! I could do it! It's so much easier now. I almost don't even have to think about it anymore."

"Yes," he nodded. "But I never had to work that hard to hear a single voice."

My smile fell. "I know. I wish it was easier."

"And I saw you running.

"Just outside… around the house," I added quickly. "I only do it here at home."

"You nearly had an asthma attack."

"No, I just—" I didn't want him to think I was weak. "I'm getting better. I just need to practice."

"But someone could still see you."

"I know," I said sadly. "But how am I supposed to learn to do anything if I'm never allowed to _do_ anything?"

"Jason, you shouldn't worry about developing your powers like that. You only need to focus on controlling the powers that bother you – like your hearing."

I frowned at him, not really sure I understood him correctly.

"You will never be as strong as me. You will never be as fast as me. You're too different."

"But shouldn't I at least try?"

"What's the point? You can never tell anyone what you can do. You can never tell anyone who you are. You can never be like me. And you know that I can never claim you as my son."

I felt my eyes fill with tears. "But I _am_ your son!"

"I may have given you life… but you are not my son. My son wouldn't be sick. My son wouldn't have difficultly with his powers. My son would be strong and healthy and able to fly with me."

"But I can fly!" I said in desperation. "If you would just give me a chance!"

"You can fly?" he asked.

"Yes! If you help me! Show me how!" I cried.

"Jump."

I blinked. "What?"

"Jump to me. Show me that you are worthy to be my son."

I was afraid. I couldn't just jump out of my window. I'd fall. I'd get hurt. I looked down at the ground, scared of dying… but even more scared that he would leave me.

I looked up to see him drifting away.

"NO!" I yelled. "Don't go! I can do it! I can!"

And I jumped… and I fell…

I gasped, sitting up straight in my bed, my heart racing and my breathing heavy.

It had been a dream. All of it. And it had left me shaken and breathless. I was so warm I was sweating. Glancing at the clock, I saw that it was after midnight. I crawled out of bed and crossed to the bathroom so that I could splash some cold water on my face and catch my breath. I could feel the constriction in my chest as the wheezing started. I needed to calm down quickly or I would have an asthma attack, and I hadn't had one of those in months.

The water felt so cool on my skin. A few months ago I noticed how warm everything felt. It was fifteen degrees outside and yet I felt like I was burning up. Mom noticed it one morning and immediately thought I was running a temperature. She kept me home from school even though I told her I felt fine. When my so-called fever hadn't gone down within twenty-four hours, Dad wanted to call the doctor and take me in for a check-up. Again, I told them I felt perfectly fine, and Mom finally believed me. She said it probably had something to do with the sun… and with who I really was. So now I could add "unnaturally hot" to my list of almost-super powers.

I took a deep breath and willed my heart to slow down. Looking into the mirror, I told myself it was just a dream and that I had to stop worrying about the fact that he never called me his son. Because it _did_ bother me, if I were being honest with myself. We hadn't really spoken since that day after school last year. We'd seen each other, and he'd smiled or nodded at me in recognition, but we hadn't really _talked_. Because of this, I'd been left to stew over his words on my own, hearing them in my mind over and over again, and building a mountain out of a molehill. He hadn't denied being my father, but then he'd never once during the entire conversation said, "Jason, you are my son." I knew I shouldn't make such a big deal out of it. I was obviously his son and he wasn't trying to hide that from me anymore. But I couldn't help but feel… disappointed that he hadn't said more or been more specific.

I stretched my arms over my head and yawned deeply, feeling how tired my body felt. The weather had been rotten the last few days, rainy and cloudy and grey, and it was really starting to get to me. I always felt better when it was sunny outside, but it wasn't until the last year or so that I actually understood why. I rubbed my eyes, yawned again, and… froze.

"I've stayed away – I've kept my distance like I promised so that he would be safe. Now, all I'm asking for is two days, Lois. And not even a full two days. I just need… time… with him."

It was the voice from my dream. It was _his_ voice.

"He needs this, too, Lois. You have to know that. I've seen him running and pushing himself, testing his limits. Metropolis doesn't give him the space he needs."

He saw me? I immediately thought of my dream and how he had said I'd never be good enough to be his son. Was that what he said? I couldn't remember perfectly.

"Where will you take him?" That was Dad's voice.

"To a place where he can be himself without worrying about being seen. To a place where he can have all of his questions answered."

"The Fortress?" Mom asked.

It was a moment before he answered, "Yes."

They were below me, in the living room. All three of them. Mom, Dad, and… Superman. I'd caught bits of conversation about me in the last year between my mom and dad, but I'd never heard them talk to him about me. Not since that night when I found out he was my… my…

"What fortress?" Dad asked.

"It's a place where I learned who I was and where I came from. It's all that's left of my home – of Krypton." He sounded sad.

"And where is this… fortress?" Dad pressed.

"It's in the Arctic," Mom offered.

"The Arctic? Are you serious? You want to take Jason to some frozen wasteland?"

"He'll be fine," Mom countered.

"What parent takes a child on a two-day excursion to the Arctic? He'll freeze."

"I wouldn't let him freeze, Richard," Superman said very calmly. "I wouldn't let anything bad happen to him."

I quietly made my way down the hall to the stairs. The light leaking out from the living room illuminated the stairs just enough that I knew I wouldn't be able to walk down the steps without drawing attention to the fact that I was awake, and I wanted to stay hidden as long as possible. It didn't take a genius to figure out that my parents – all three of them – wouldn't talk so openly if they knew I was listening in. And I wanted to hear this.

"I thought you said that it was too dangerous for you to spend time with Jason," Dad pointed out. "Taking a two-day vacation with Superman isn't exactly being discreet."

"I realize that, Richard, and I've thought it through. From what I understand, Jason's school has spring break coming up next week. You could take a vacation – all of you. Say you're going somewhere on the coast. Take the plane out, and when you are a far enough distance away from Metropolis, you could safely land in the water where I could find you. Jason could come with me and you and Lois could go somewhere on your own. Then the next day, sometime in the evening, I would bring Jason back to you wherever you happen to be staying. You would spend the rest of the vacation together and return to Metropolis with no one ever suspecting that Jason wasn't with you the whole time."

The room was quiet, and I held my breath for fear that I would be heard on the stairs. My heart raced in my chest as I waited for Dad's approval. To my great relief, I heard him mutter, "It just might work. Lois?"

Surely Mom would let me go. She wouldn't say no. She _couldn't_ say no. But given how quiet the room was downstairs and how long it was taking her to answer, I couldn't help but worry.

"You'll bring him back?" she asked after a long pause.

"Lois," Superman started in that soothing voice I'd come to recognize as the voice reserved for my mother. "I wouldn't take him away from you. This is his home. You and Richard are the only family he's ever known. I would never take him away from you. I'm only asking for two days."

I heard Mom sigh.

And I heard the clock ticking as she considered her answer.

"Okay," she agreed, and I nearly shouted in excitement. "But if Jason doesn't like it—"

"I'll bring him right home," Superman finished for her.

"Well, we're all assuming that Jason will want to go," Dad noted. "From what I've seen, I doubt he'll agree to spend two days alone with you."

My feet went to work before my brain had time to register what I was doing. I darted down the stairs as fast as I could, rounded the corner into the living room, and exclaimed, "I want to go!"

Three sets of eyes fell on me, each with a different expression. Dad frowned, worry etched clearly on his face. Mom's expression was open and hopeful, not really a smile, but definitely not a frown. And then I looked at _him_. He was smiling brightly, looking down at me in a way that made me feel so warm inside.

"Are you sure, Jason?" he asked me.

"I'm sure."

"You don't have to go if you don't want to," Dad offered, and it sounded to me as if he _wanted_ me to say I didn't want to go.

But I did, and so I repeated, "I want to go."

I tried to sound brave and unafraid. I tried to make them believe that I wasn't in the slightest bit worried about what might happen. But the truth was, I wasn't really sure of my decision. What would he expect me to do? What other secrets did he have to tell me? Would I be able to show him that I could be like him – that I could really be his son? All I knew for certain was that I didn't want my dream to come true. I didn't want him to be disappointed with me and eventually leave me. This was my chance to show him – to prove to myself that I could make it through all of this.

As the week passed, I grew more and more anxious over the whole thing. I thought I was doing a fair job of keeping my fears hidden, but Mom saw right through it. Several times she reminded me that I didn't have to go. What she didn't understand was that I did have to go. I _had_ to prove myself.

My Dad said it one last time as he landed the plane on the water that Saturday morning. "You can still change your mind."

I shook my head. "No, I wanna go."

"You sound like you're trying to convince yourself," Dad said.

I didn't have time to argue with him, because the door to the plane opened and _he_ was suddenly there. I felt my stomach twist in a combination of excitement and worry. This was it. He had really come for me and he would take me where I could learn how to be just like him. I couldn't mess this up.

"Hello, Jason," he said calmly.

"Hi," I replied hesitantly.

"Are you ready to go?"

I nodded and grabbed my bag.

"He has all his medications," Mom chimed in. "And there is a fresh inhaler just in case something happens."

I rolled my eyes. "Mom, stop it."

"He'll be fine, Lois," Superman said. "I'll bring him back tomorrow night."

"We're going to be at my parent's house off the coast in Virginia," Dad reminded him.

"I know," Superman smiled, and then turned to me. "Ready?"

I nodded again. He stepped closer to me, slipping his arm around my waist.

"Put your arm around my shoulder," he said, and I did as he asked. I acted as if this wasn't anything special, like it was a common occurrence for him to take me flying, but as I felt my feet leave the ground, I grabbed on to him tightly with both hands, proving that this was far from ordinary for me. I heard him chuckle lightly and felt his hold on my side tighten.

"Okay?" he asked, looking at my face for any sign of doubt.

I nodded. "Yeah."

His gaze returned to the front as we flew over the water, up into the air, and circled around back towards land. Steadily, we climbed higher and higher until we were above the clouds. I closed my eyes and let the wind whip around us, brushing against my face, messing up my hair. It felt so wonderful. I felt… _free_.

I opened my eyes to find him looking at me with one eyebrow lifted. "Faster?"

I smiled brightly. "Yes!"

"All right," he grinned back at me. "But don't tell your mom."

I laughed and shook my head.

Suddenly, I felt my body being propelled forward, faster than I think I'd ever gone before. Clouds became a blur underneath us as we sped past them. What little bit of the earth I could see below looked like a patchwork quilt of farms and lakes and indistinguishable roads. And everything was quiet. So quiet. The wind and a few birds were the only sounds I could hear other than the two of us streaking through the clouds. I was amazed at how quiet it was. It made me want to stay in the sky forever.

And then I realized that someday, if I really wanted to, I _would_ be able to stay up here forever. When I learned how to fly, I would spend all of my free time up here where it was quiet. I'd never have to be bothered with extra, unnecessary, distracting sounds again. And I'd be so fast. I'd fly everywhere and never have to worry about getting somewhere on time again. I couldn't wait!

Far too soon for my liking, we slowed down and started drifting back to the earth. I looked below, expecting to see the ice and snow of the Arctic, but to my surprise, my feet came to rest on grass. He gently placed me down and I turned around in a full circle, taking in my surroundings.

"This doesn't look like the Arctic," I said.

He smiled. "That's because it's not. It's Kansas."

I smirked at him. "You told Mom we were going to the Arctic."

"I said we'd go somewhere where you could be yourself and not worry about being seen," he pointed out.

He had said that, but he didn't say anything about Kansas. It was a half-truth, and he knew it.

"Then we aren't going to the Arctic?"

"We will," he promised, "but we'll go tomorrow."

"So, why are we here?" I asked, still confused by the sudden change in plans.

"I wanted you to see where I grew up."

I looked up at him, my jaw hanging open. "You grew up here?"

He smiled. "Come on, let me show you the house."

He led me inside a small farmhouse, taking my bags from me and walking towards the stairs. "I'll be right back," he said, and then he vanished.

I huffed in disappointment. This wasn't what I had been expecting. Visiting an ice fortress in the Arctic sounded wicked. Visiting a rundown, old farm in Kansas was just… boring. I glanced around the room and was instantly drawn to the piano in the corner. I was curious; could he play piano? And then I noticed the series of photos on top of the instrument. An older couple, looking exactly like something out of a storybook about farm life. And a young boy with glasses too big for his face and a grin about as cheesy as they come.

"I put your things upstairs," he said from behind me.

I turned around and tried to hide my surprise at seeing him dressed in jeans and a plaid shirt. He looked so… normal. I pulled my eyes away from him and turned back to look at the photos.

"Who are these people?"

"Those are my parents," he explained, coming to stand next to me.

I frowned up at him. "But I thought—"

"My human parents," he corrected. "Jonathan and Martha Kent. They raised me. I was about three years old when I arrived on earth. They found me and took care of me as if I were their own child."

"You're adopted?"

"Um hum," he hummed with a nod.

I suddenly felt very connected to him right then. I guess I'd just never realized that his biological parents didn't raise him, much the same way that I wasn't being raised by _my_ biological father. I had to know that at some level, but it wasn't until this moment that it felt important to me.

"Where are they?" I asked, looking back at the photo.

"My father died of a heart attack when I was eighteen. And Mom died a few years ago." He looked very sad. "It was just her time."

"I'm sorry," I said, not sure what to say.

He smiled down at me and placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. "There's nothing for you to be sorry about."

"Is this you?" I asked, picking up one of the photos of the young boy.

"Yes," he groaned. "Terrible picture, isn't it? I hadn't quite… grown into my body yet and was very gangly."

"You were a nerd," I announced bravely.

He laughed. "I was not the most popular kid in school, no."

"But," I started, uncertain of how to word what I was thinking. "But you're Superman. How could you not be popular?"

"Well, I wasn't always Superman. When I was that age," he said, indicating the picture, "I was just Clark Kent."

"There's nothing wrong with being Clark Kent," I mumbled. "If you'd just stop tripping over your feet all the time, people might like you more. Mom might like you more." I wasn't sure why I said that, but he didn't seem to mind.

"You know, I do that on purpose."

I nodded. "Yeah, I know." And I hated it.

He took the photo from me and set it back on the piano. "Enough about me. This trip is supposed to be about you." He sat down on the arm of an oversized chair. "What would you like to do first?"

I shrugged. "What is there to do? I mean, I really don't want to pluck chickens or milk cows."

He chuckled. "I didn't bring you here to milk a cow. I brought you here for this." He took my hand and led me out onto the porch. "Look out there. What do you see?"

"Corn," I answered unenthusiastically.

"Yup," he replied. "Just corn… and a few animals. No people."

I looked up at him as the pieces started to click into place in my brain.

"Corn as far as the eye can see, Jason. A person could do an awful lot of running out there and never be seen by anyone." Slowly, he turned his face to mischievously look down at me.

Was he saying what I thought he was saying? Had he brought me here so I could… run? So I could try to do all the things I'd wanted to do but couldn't try in the city? I had to be sure. "Are you serious?" I said.

"I am."

I grinned madly. "You'll let me go?"

"Just stay on the farm."

"How will I know if I'm leaving your land?"

"You should be okay so long as you don't jump over any fences… which might be a really easy thing depending on how high you can jump."

I couldn't believe this. He was going to let me go. He was going to let me run and do whatever I wanted. I was itching to run – to see how fast I could actually go – to try out these abilities of mine and see just how much I could really do. And I wanted him to see that I was able to do it. That I truly _could_ do it all if I tried. It was such a big farm. I could run for hours without end.

"What if I get lost?" I asked, my legs shaking and ready to dart off the porch at the slightest impetus.

"I'll find you," he promised.

I looked out over the open field, imagining what it would be like to run. Wanting to believe that this was real and not some dream.

"Go, Jason."

My eyes met his, and he smiled down at me. "Run."

"As fast as I can?"

"As fast as you can," he repeated in a whisper.

My eyes focused forward with determination. I wet my lips in anticipation. And I ran. I ran so fast I actually left a trail of dust behind me. I ran for several minutes, testing out the feel of the ground under my feet and the way my body worked. I'd never had the chance to run like this before. I always held back just in case anyone got suspicious. But this time I pushed as hard as I could, and it felt wonderful.

I came to a stop near the silo I remembered seeing in the middle of the field earlier. I was a long way from the house already, and I was amazed at how little time it took me to get this far out. I was breathing heavily, but so what. I'd just run faster than everyone else on earth _combined_. Well… almost everyone. He came running up to me, proving that as fast as I was, he was faster .

"Good?" he said with a smile.

"I love it," I grinned, trying to slow my breathing.

"Then why did you stop?"

I laughed and took off once again, pushing my feet into the earth as hard and as rapidly as they would go. I felt so strong, so light, so unbelievably free. It was almost like flying. The cool breeze on my skin mixed with the warmth of the sun gave me all the power I needed. I ran and I ran and I ran, until at last I had to stop to catch my breath.

I was bent over panting hard, with my hands on my knees, when he came up beside me. "Are you all right?"

"I'm good," I breathed. "I just need – to catch – my breath."

"Are you having an asthma attack?" His voice sounded worried.

"No," I panted. "I'm just not used to such – fresh air."

"You're sure you're all right?"

I hated that he thought I was weak. "I'm fine," I snapped. "How fast do you think I went?"

"I'm not sure. Do you want me to time you?"

"Would you?" I said with wide eyes.

He pointed back to the silo. "It's about a mile from the silo to the house. I'll meet you back at the silo and we can time your run to the house."

"'Kay." I nodded.

And off we went. I wanted to try to get to the silo first, but had no such luck. He was there waiting for me, not a hair out of place and looking not the least bit winded. I huffed the air in and out of my lungs, trying to slow my heart and calm my breathing.

"Maybe we should take a break?" he offered.

"I wanna – do this – first," I huffed, taking a running stance and waiting for him to tell me to go.

"All right, I'll give you the signal and then meet you back at the silo with your time."

Was he trying to show off for me? I nodded and tried to ignore how superior he sounded.

"On your mark, get set, GO!"

I pushed off as hard as I could, my feet gripping into the dirt so that I could run as fast as I could towards the silo. It didn't take me long at all, and I came to a halt next to him, dust flying all around the air from our fast feet.

He looked down at his watch, "I have one minute and forty-seven seconds."

"Is that good?" I asked tentatively.

"Yeah," he said, but he didn't look me in the eyes. It might be good, but he was disappointed that it wasn't better.

"Let me try again," I said, getting myself ready.

"Jason, you don't have to do—"

"On your mark," I said, ignoring him. "Get set. GO!"

I darted back to the house as fast as my legs would carry me. I was very tired, but I wasn't about to show him that. Unfortunately, I hadn't taken into account the dust particles floating in the air, getting into my lungs as I inhaled deeply. I got to the house and sat down on the step, trying to steady my breath and not go into a coughing fit.

"How was that?" I panted out.

"One minute, thirty –two seconds."

"See, I can get better." I took a deep breath and immediately began coughing. Dust filled my lungs and I choked, sending me into a wheezing fit.

"Jason?" His hands were on my back, gently patting me as if that would make my lungs clear up. "What do I do?"

I gasped for breath, unable to talk.

"Jason!" He sounded panicked now. "Where's your inhaler?"

I pointed to the house and barley managed to rattle out the word, "Bag."

In a flash, he was gone and then back again, with my inhaler in his hand. "Here, breathe."

I sucked in the medicine, as deeply as I could and slowly started to feel the constriction in my lungs subside. I coughed a few more times, but my breathing eventually returned to normal. I looked up at his face to find worry lines etched between his eyebrows. I didn't like that look. It made me feel pathetic and useless, like a weakling runt.

"Are you okay?" he asked in concern.

"Yeah." I took another deep breath to prove that I was fine. "Sorry."

"I shouldn't have pushed you so hard."

I stood up, looking him directly in the eyes and hoping I could make him understand. "It wasn't the running that brought it on. It was the dust. I can do this. I can. But with all the dust in the air—"

He put his hand on my shoulder. "Maybe we should go inside and rest for awhile."

I jerked away from him, angry at the suggestion that I couldn't handle these alien powers he had unknowingly passed on to me. "No! I can do this! I want to show you what I can do!"

"Jason, I don't want you to—"

"Please," I begged.

His eyes bore into mine as he considered what we should do next. He sighed, looking out at the golden field of corn before turning back to me. "How about we try jumping. Maybe there's less dust with jumping."

He was right, there wasn't as much dust, and soon I was jumping so high I felt as if I might start flying any moment. He told me that was how he had first flown. That he hovered off the ground after falling through the barn roof. He even showed me the patch job his father had made him do to repair the hole. So as I jumped, I imagined myself floating down, stopping just short of the ground so that I could hover in the air. I always came down, though. I'd do it someday, I was sure, just not today. I'd show him I could do it.

By the time dinner rolled around, I was tired and sweaty and downright dirty from all the outdoor activity. I washed up while he went for pizza and earned another, "Just don't tell your mother," from him after I explained how Mom never let me have cheese pizza. Didn't he know by now that I was really good at keeping things from my mom?

I nearly inhaled my pizza, I was so hungry, and as my stomach started to fill, I felt my eyelids begin to grow heavy. I'm not sure how long I was out of it, but I fell asleep on the sofa. He woke me up and helped me get up to bed. I was going to sleep in his old bedroom, the room with the ceiling covered in glow-in-the-dark stars. Just before sleep took over, I noticed that in the middle of all the yellow-white stars was a solitary red one, and I couldn't help but wonder if that was Krypton.

Somewhere in the distance of my subconscious, I thought I heard someone say, "Goodnight… son."

_AN#2: I'd like to recommend the fic Everything Light and Good by LostnSpace. It's quite possibly one of the most heart-wrenching fics I've read in a long time!_


	10. Age 12 Part Two: Krypton

_AN: I hope everyone had a Merry Christmas or whatever holiday you celebrate. If you've come looking for an escape from the bliss and joy of the day, then you've found it for I'm sorry to say that this is NOT a happy chapter. _

_If you can't guess from the title, this chapter gets right into the nitty-gritty of Krypton. I've been so nervous about this scene that I would mess it up and make all the die hard comic fans out there flame me. I'm not a comic reader, so my love and knowledge of Supes comes totally from the movies. Thus, you will recognize many of the lines in this chapter as being directly lifted from Superman I – and I fully acknowledge that! Also, I got the Richard Donner version of Supes II for Christmas and stole a few lines from that as well. (And boy you should have seen my face as I watched the scene between Kal-El and Jor-El having already written this one with no knowledge of what was coming! Whoa!) But the movies only took me so far, and so for the rest of the information, I used the Superman Through the Ages website, home of the Superman Encyclopedia and The House of El family tree. Some of Jor-El's dialogue is mine, but I tried very hard to blend mine in with what I took from these other sources._

_As usual, I have to thank my beta readers who both told me not to cut the opening scene from this chapter. It's a long chapter and I considered cutting it down to make it easier to read, but both Hellish and htbthomas said it should stay. So it stayed._

_Lastly, I would like to dedicate this chapter to Marlon Brando who will forever embody Jor-El in my mind- even more so now that I have seen the Richard Donner Supes II. It did my heart such joy to watch the end of the extras DVD for Superman Returns to see the clip of Brando saying – in perfect Jor-El dead pan – _

"_The virtuous spirit has no need for thanks or approval. Only the certain conviction that what has been done is right. Develop such conviction in yourself, El – Al… Kal-El... Ralph… whatever your name is."_

**Age 12 – Krypton**

The first thing I was aware of was that the air smelled of bacon. Then I realized that the bed I was in felt very different from my normal bed. My eyes blinked open to find myself in a room so unfamiliar that it actually took me a moment to realize where I was. And then I noticed how quiet it was. No loud city sounds. No water splashing against the deck.

Kansas. I was in Kansas with my…with Clark. And this was his old room in the house he grew up in.

Suddenly, the relative quiet of the house was disturbed by the sound of music playing downstairs. Big-band music that sounded almost… _familiar_ to me. Then, to my absolute horror, the house was filled with some of the worst singing I've ever heard in my life.

"You leave the Pennsylvania Station 'bout a quarter to four. Read a magazine and then you're in Baltimore!"

It wasn't that he couldn't sing at all, but rather that he was just slightly off pitch enough to truly clash with the music he was singing along to. I grimaced as he screeched, "Dinner in the diner. Nothing could be finer than to have your ham and eggs in Car-o-lina!"

I started down the steps hesitantly. Did he want me to hear him singing? He had to know I could hear him. I peered around the corner of the kitchen at him to find that not only was he singing – and by this time he was doing a poor imitation of a trumpet as well– but he was halfway dancing around the room, holding up a spatula as a pretend microphone.

"Pardon me, boy. WAH WAH!! Is that the Chattanooga Choo Choo? WAH WAH! Track twenty-nine. Wah-ah! Boy, you can gimme a shine!"

He was so awful it was funny and I couldn't help but laugh. He turned around, smiling brightly, to see me standing there, very openly laughing at him. That didn't stop him for one moment. He kept right on singing, louder and more off key than before.

I made a face at him, "What are you doing?"

"Fixing breakfast. Are you hungry?"

I looked over at the table to see what he had whipped up for us to eat. After the take-out pizza last night, I was stunned to actually find a home-cooked meal of bacon, eggs, and pancakes. My eyes went wide. "Are we having company?"

"Nope. Just us."

He'd fixed enough food to feed a small army. I smirked at him, "You know I'm only twelve, right? I can't eat this much."

He pulled out a chair for me. "So just eat what you want."

I sat down, looking at the food skeptically, and waited for him to join me. He took the last helping of eggs off the stove and scraped them onto my plate before turning the volume down on the record player.

"I've never seen one of those before," I admitted.

"A record player? Really?"

I shrugged. "I have an iPod."

"Well," he sighed, sitting down across from me at the table, "this was my mother's. She always had music playing in the morning. Glenn Miller was one of her favorites." Then he noticed I wasn't eating. "Something wrong with the food?"

"Oh, no." Against my better judgment, I picked up my fork and took a bite of my breakfast. To my great surprise, it was really good. "You can cook?" I said, amazed.

He chuckled. "You can't grow up on a farm without learning how to cook, Jason."

I shoved my mouth full of delicious, fluffy pancakes and nearly swallowed them whole. "Yeah, but apparently you can grow up listening to music every morning and never learn how to sing."

He paused with his fork midway to his mouth and smirked at me. "Are you making fun of me?"

"No, I'm telling the truth. You're a horrible singer," I laughed and took another bite of food.

"Well, gee… thanks!" he said, shifting in his seat. "See if I make you breakfast ever again."

I shrugged and dug into my plate more thoroughly.

"Not all of us can be born with musical talent." He took a drink of his orange juice, eyeing me with interest. "I'm still not sure where you get it from."

I swallowed the bite I had and stared back at him, uncertain I had heard him correctly. He only smiled at me and took another bite of food.

"Who played piano?" I asked, indicating the instrument with my empty fork.

"My mom," he replied without looking up at me.

"Your _human_ mom?" I clarified.

His eyes met mine. "Yes."

I bit my lip. "Do you even know what your _real_ mother did?"

He nodded. "She was an astronaut."

"Wow," I said, impressed, though it made sense on some level. He was an alien, after all. He'd flown through space to get here. "Was your real dad an astronaut, too?"

"No, he was a scientist."

"Oh," I said, pushing my food around on my plate.

"Would you like to meet him?" he asked, leaving me a bit stunned.

I gaped at him. "I thought he was dead."

"He is," he smiled sadly.

"Then how can I meet him?"

"Let me show you."

I finished my breakfast in a hurry and gathered up my things from the bedroom upstairs. Nearly giddy with excitement, I charged down the stairs to find him waiting for me by the door. The jeans and t-shirt were gone. Clark Kent had once again been replaced with Superman. My stomach did a strange sort of flop and I wondered why it was that I could make fun of Clark and laugh with Clark over eggs and pancakes, but when it came to dealing with Superman, I felt like a total idiot.

He smiled and led me out onto the porch, where I once again put my arm over his shoulder as he lifted off the ground and headed up into the sky in one swift motion. I could totally get used to this whole flying business. Everything was so much more peaceful, so much quieter up here. And even though we were miles and miles above the earth, I felt so safe and secure – like I belonged here. And I never felt like I belonged anywhere.

I could soon see snow and ice below us. "I don't have a coat," I said.

"You won't need one," he assured. "You'll be warm enough, I promise."

And then I saw it, rising up from the snow and reaching towards the sky with its massive pillars of white. It sparkled under the bright sunlight, as if it were made of diamonds, casting a million tiny rainbows off of its surface. It was quite possibly the most amazing thing I had ever seen in my entire life.

We flew directly over it and slowly drifted down to land right in the middle of the structure. He released me gently and smiled at me as I turned around in a slow circle, taking in the epic size of the place and the general splendor of it all. My mouth hung open and I'm sure I sounded foolish when I said, "This is the most incredible place on the planet!"

"You like it then?"

"Like it?" I gaped at him. "It's – it's – I mean—" There weren't words to describe it. All I could come up with was, "Wow. Just…WOW!"

He chuckled lightly.

"How did you build this place?" I asked.

"I didn't. It kind of… built itself."

I thought about that for a second. "You mean like… like New Krypton?"

He nodded. "Yes, exactly like New Krypton, except no kryptonite," he finished with an unusual expression on his face.

I wasn't sure if he was trying to be funny or what? Whatever he meant, I didn't laugh. "If kryptonite can kill _you_… what do you suppose it would do to _me_?"

His face hardened instantly. "I'm not sure. A part of you is human, and humans aren't affected by kryptonite. So, I really can't answer that, and to be honest with you, I hope we never find out."

I bit my lip and thought some more. "What is kryptonite, anyway? I mean, if it's pieces of Krypton… and you're from Krypton… then how can it be deadly to you? Bits of earth aren't deadly to humans, right?"

He stepped closer to me. "That's right, but just as my body reacts differently here on earth under the radiation of the yellow sun, so do pieces of kryptonite. It's sadly ironic, don't you think, that all that's left of my home is the only thing that can really hurt me."

I looked around at the fortress and spotted what looked like a control panel holding dozens of pure crystals. "I remember those," I announced. "Lex Luthor had them."

"Yes," he said sternly. "He stole them from me and used them in a way that they were never meant to be used." He approached me slowly, his face softening as he drew close. "You know, Jason, you don't have to worry about him anymore. He'll never hurt you again."

"I know," I replied. "He's dead."

"Yes."

Something in the way he looked down at me made me shiver for the first time since we had arrived at this ice palace. I wet my lips, trying to ignore the feeling, and picked up one of the crystals. "So, if the crystals weren't supposed to be used to make a new continent, than what are they here for?"

He smiled again, and it was as if the mood shifted completely. "They hold information. Everything you want to know about Krypton or our people – or really any of the various planets across the known universe – it's all stored in the crystals."

"How?" I said, not really believing him.

"Let me show you." He slipped one of the larger crystals into an empty tube on the control panel. The lights shifted all around the fortress, and I was suddenly very afraid. I felt his hand on my shoulder, reassuring me that everything would be fine. To my utter amazement, a huge face appeared in the ice pillars holding the fortress up. The face was duplicated many times over all around us. And then a voice sounded, deep and rich and precise, echoing eerily off the walls of the chamber.

"My son. You do not remember me. I am Jor-El. I am your father. By now, I will have been dead many thousands of your years. You are the only survivor of the planet Krypton. Imbedded in the crystals before you is the total accumulation of all literature and scientific fact from dozens of other worlds, spanning the twenty-eight known galaxies. There are questions to be asked. Here, in this Fortress of Solitude, we shall try to find the answers together. So, my son, Kal-El, speak."

I closed my jaw, which was still hanging wide open, and swallowed hard. Questions, the man had said. I had _so_ many questions. But was I supposed to ask them now? I looked up at my… at Superman… for approval. "What do I do?" I asked quietly.

"What do you want to know?"

My heart was racing. I could ask anything and have it answered. For some reason, I couldn't find the courage to ask what I most wanted to know for fear that he wouldn't approve of my questions. I wanted to know – no – I _needed_ to know where I fit into all of this, but I didn't think that should be my first question. I decided to start with something a bit simpler.

"What did he say his name was?" I asked shyly.

"Jor-El."

"Jorral?" I said, testing the name.

"No. Jor-El." And he spelled it for me, complete with the hyphen.

"Jor-El," I repeated. "And what did he call you?"

"Kal-El. It's my Kryptonian name – my _real_ name."

I squinted up at him. "So your name has a hyphen, too?"

"Yes."

"Does that mean that El is your last name?"

His face twisted in thought. "Sort of. Kryptonian names work differently than human names. I am a descendant of the house of El, as was my father. The symbol that I wear is my family crest," he explained, placing his hand on the red-and-yellow emblem on his chest.

"I thought it stood for Superman?"

He chuckled. "Most people do, but it doesn't. It's the symbol for the house of El. Now, all the males in my family line have a name that ends in El, which is similar to a last name. However, the females take on the full name of the man they are directly connected to. For example, my mother's name was Lara. Her father's name was Lor-Van, from the house of Van. So as a young girl she was known as Lara Lor-Van. When she married my father, instead of becoming Lara El, her name changed to Lara _Jor_-El. So it doesn't work exactly the same way as a last name here on earth. The last name only passes from father to son."

Another chill shuddered through my body. "Then… what's _my_ Kryptonian name?" I asked in a shaky voice.

His eyes met mine and I could tell from the way he simply stared down at me that he didn't have an answer.

"I mean… _I_ am of the house of El, right?" Again my question was met with silence. I couldn't look at him for another second, so I pulled my focus away and looked down at the pure white ground. "That's okay. It's no big deal really if I don't have one. I'd never be able to tell anyone, so what would be the point of having one? I just… wondered." I was babbling, which was never a good sign. "But really, it's okay. I'll just be… Jason White."

Without warning, he was kneeling in front of me, looking into my eyes with such power that had he not been holding me by my arms I would have taken a step back. "There is nothing wrong with being Jason White," he said meaningfully. "I didn't think you would _want_ a Kryptonian name. I hadn't anticipated that, and for that I'm sorry. If you want a name, I will give you one."

"Okay," I said softly.

"Now," he smiled, "what else do you want to know?"

"Well," I pondered if the time was ready for me to ask about myself and again opted to stick to more basic questions. "What really happened to Krypton? How did it get destroyed?"

He nodded and stood up to look back at the large face of the man called Jor-El. "Father, how was Krypton destroyed?"

"The core of Krypton is mainly composed of uranium, which for untold ages has built up a cycle of chain-impulses that are increasing in power with every moment. These impulses cause the core to react in much the same way as would the atom bomb on the planet Earth. From my vantage point, Krypton has not yet been destroyed, but I can say beyond a shadow of a doubt that the planet will soon begin to annihilate itself until one final cataclysmic eruption when Krypton will explode and be no more."

I considered his words for a moment, because they didn't make much sense to me. "So the planet blew up by itself?"

"Yes," answered Superman.

"If they knew what was happening, why didn't they all just leave?"

"Because the majority of people didn't believe my father. One of the other scientists explained the rumblings and quakes of the planet to simply be a shift in the orbit of the planet."

"But I thought Kryptonians were supposed to be so much more advanced than us. It sounds to me like they weren't very smart when it came to saving their planet. One scientist has a different theory and no one takes the time to check and make sure he's telling the truth? That's not very intelligent."

"No, it's not," Superman agreed. "But that's why my father sent me here - to save me from the destruction."

"Why didn't he save himself?"

"Because he promised not to leave Krypton."

"I don't get it," I said honestly. "I mean, I understand why he saved _you_, since you are his son. But didn't he know that by sending you here that you would be…" The words got lost in my throat. "I mean, there's no one like you here." I looked away from him, unsure of how to explain what I was thinking. "I know how awful it is to be able to do things… and not know why you can do them. It's confusing. At least… at least I had…" I couldn't bring myself to say it for some reason.

"What, Jason?" he probed gently.

"Well, with my hearing… when that happened… you talked me through it." I could feel my face turning bright red with nervousness.

"Yes, I did. And I will talk you through whatever else may come your way," he promised.

Hesitantly, I glanced up at him. "But you didn't have that. Your parents were dead."

"No, I didn't," he confirmed. "But that's why my father gave me this place, so that I could learn who I was and where I came from. I was eighteen when I first heard the name Krypton and came to understand the responsibility I had to this planet."

"Responsibility? You mean as Superman?"

"Yes. I was told that—" he stopped suddenly and addressed Jor-El once again. "Father, what is my purpose here on earth with regards to my abilities?"

The face began to speak again in that melodic voice that seemed somehow familiar and yet very foreign at the same time. "You have great powers, only some of which you have as yet discovered. You must use these powers wisely and often with restraint. You are superior to others. You can only become inferior by setting yourself above them. Lead by inspiration. Let your actions and ideals become a touchstone against which mankind may learn how to serve the common good. While it is forbidden for you to interfere with human history itself, your leadership can stir others to their own capacity for moral betterment.

"The virtuous spirit has no need for thanks or approval. Only the certain conviction that what has been done is right. Develop such conviction in yourself, Kal-El. The human heart on your planet is still subject to small jealousies, lies, and monstrous deceptions. Resist these temptations as you inevitably find them – and your ethical power will then properly outweigh your physical advantage over others. Never use your powers for personal gain, Kal-El. Never.

"Live as one of them, Kal-El, to discover where your strength and power are needed – but always hold in your heart the pride of your special heritage. Your being is both separate and your own, but I have caused your earthly presence and must share responsibility for your actions. They can be a great people, Kal-El. They wish to be. They only lack the light to show the way. For this reason above all – their capacity for good – I have sent them you. My only son."

"It doesn't sound like he thinks very much of humans," I observed. It actually sounded a little pompous to me, but I didn't dare say that to Superman. This was a representation of his father, after all, and I didn't think he would like it too much if I insulted his father.

"On the contrary, my father had a great deal of respect for humans," he countered. "It's just that he understood that humans hadn't progressed as far as Kryptonians. Our people, Jason, were much more sophisticated than humans. Our technology, our understanding of the universe, our very way of life was infinitely more advanced than what is found here on earth."

Now he was sounding just as pompous as his father. And it didn't escape me that he was lumping me in with this so-called advanced society, always referring to Kryptonians as _our_ people rather than just _his_ people. If they were so advanced, then why would they have let their planet be destroyed? Why would they have all stayed there and let themselves be killed? It seemed like a contradiction to me, but I brushed it off, knowing it would be pointless to argue about it now.

"What did he mean by not interfering with history?" I asked.

"That I shouldn't do for the people of earth what they can do for themselves. I shouldn't use my powers in any way to rule or control. Influence, yes, but never anything more than that. And that I shouldn't set one life over another."

That got my attention and I nearly jumped at hearing him say it. "You mean, you can't… have… friends?"

His lips pursed together in a fine line. "Father, how am I to treat and respond to each individual life with regards to my abilities?"

"Throughout your life you will form many valuable and important relationships as you come to know and understand these people. Know this now – that every life is important. Every life has value and significance. It is not for you to act as judge or jury over the personal decisions men make. They act of their own free will and should be allowed to do so. Use your power to influence them to be a better people, but understand that often times they will act in malicious and vindictive ways. There will be those among them that prefer a life less exemplary and do not abide by the laws of the land. They should be dealt with and punished according to the jurisdiction of their own people, and not by your own standards. It is your responsibility to treat all human life with equal respect, from the criminal to the kind-hearted. Be wary, my son, that you do not form any significant attachments that are beyond necessary."

"Attachments?" I said before I had a chance to stop myself. "What does he mean by that?" He opened his mouth to speak, but I kept talking. I had to get this out. "Does he mean like… friends? Or what about your parents? The Kents – aren't you allowed to value their lives over someone like… well, someone who's a criminal? Or what about… Mom? Or… me?"

I'd done it. It took me a while to get there, but I'd actually gotten around to asking about myself. And from what I was hearing from this Jor-El person, I wasn't going to like the answer.

Superman took a deep breath. "That's tricky, Jason."

"Why is it tricky?"

"Well, because… I didn't… your mother… I – I wasn't…" He was faltering, and I couldn't remember ever hearing him this lost for words before. Not even when he pretended to be the idiot version of Clark Kent.

"I don't understand," I voiced. "When he says that you can't form any significant attachments, does he mean that you aren't allowed to—" I stopped short. "That you have to be alone?" When he didn't answer me, I turned to look at Jor-El and his deceptively kind face. "Why would your father save your life, send you to a planet millions of miles from your home with the intention of protecting the people there, and then tell you that you can't have friends or even… a family?"

There. I'd said it. We'd been dancing around the word all day, but I'd finally worked up the courage to say it.

"Jason," he started softly. "You don't understand—"

"Yes, I think I do understand. You weren't supposed to have a family. I was… I was a mistake."

"You are not a mistake," he stated matter-of-factly.

"That's not what _he _said," I nodded at the image of Jor-El. "He said that you weren't supposed to—" I bit my lip and held back what I wanted to say. "So where does that leave me?"

"What do you mean?" Superman asked sadly.

"What I am supposed to do? What does he say about me? Am I in trouble? Are you in trouble for bringing me here, since I'm proof that you obviously broke the rules?"

"It isn't like that, Jason—"

"What does he say about me?" I interrupted rather forcefully.

He wet his lips and shook his head, and I could tell he didn't want me to hear whatever it was that Jor-El had to say about my existence.

Boldly, I turned to face the image before me. "Jor-El, what happens if there is a significant attachment?"

"It depends on the way that attachment manifests itself in your life. You were yet a child when you arrived on earth and it is my greatest wish that someone kind and honorable raised you and cared for you in your youth. To assume that you have no attachment to whomever filled the role of an earthly parent would be unreasonable. Your heart is good, Kal-El, and I would be disappointed if you did not feel love for those that cared for you. It would also be foolish of me to expect for you to live a day-to-day life surrounded by humanity without ever developing a penchant for some of them over others. What you need to be careful of is attaching yourself so fully to any one of them that it becomes difficult for you to make clear and unbiased decisions. You can not serve humanity by investing your time and emotion in one human being at expense of the rest. The concepts are mutually exclusive. "

I was beginning to really get angry at this Jor-El person. "So friends are allowed, but having a family is forbidden?"

"I have already spoken of your earthly family. It is my greatest hope that someone kind and honorable will raise you and care for you as their own."

He was starting to sound like a broken record.

"I'm not talking about parents," I snipped. "I'm talking about children."

Jor-El's face softened and his head bowed slightly. "Oh, my son, what you ask me now causes me great sorrow to answer."

"Father, stop!" Superman said, stepping towards the image of his father and holding out a hand. "Jason," he turned to me, "there are things that you don't understand."

"Exactly!" I snapped. "Which is why you brought me here! And that's why I'm asking these questions – so I can understand!"

"No, really, Jason, don't ask about this," he pleaded.

I frowned. "If it's something bad, then shouldn't I know? I have a right to know."

"Yes, but Jason," his voice shook with concern, "these messages were recorded using the information and knowledge that my father had garnered without ever having set foot on Earth. Everything he knows is based off of observation and information gathered from remote sources. He never met a human face-to-face. All of his testing and research was done hypothetically."

My heart was racing in my chest. "What is it that you don't want me to know?" Whatever it was, it had to be bad for him to make such a fuss over it. Without waiting for permission, I turned to the image on the crystal once more and said, "Jor-El, what about the children? What about a child?" I corrected.

"Kal-El, I can understand the desire you express with your question. I understand it because I have felt it personally. The longing for a family – for a child of your own. It is only natural for you to feel such things. On Krypton, your desires would be encouraged, for we value children and recognize the importance of continuing the family line.

"However, you are not on Krypton. You are surrounded by beings that are genetically inferior to you. That which you ask – to have a family of your own – is an impossibility."

My heart skipped a beat.

"You will never have a child of your own," Jor-El continued. "You will never have a family of your own. Furthermore, were you to join your life with that of a mere mortal – you would be going against everything I have taught you and would place yourself in a potentially very dangerous position. I urge you, Kal-El, to avoid such attachments."

I blinked, trying to make sense of what I was hearing. "Impossibility?" I repeated under my breath. "But I'm here."

"Jason—"

"I'm here!" I said more forcefully.

"Yes, you are."

"Then how can he say that?" I asked the man himself, "How can you say that? Jor-El, humans may be genetically inferior, but that doesn't mean it's impossible."

"I sense your stress over this matter, my son."

"That's because you're wrong!" I shouted.

"In choosing to send you to earth, your mother and I both knew what impact this would have on your life. We understood that we were sending you to a world where you would never be able to live the life of an ordinary man. We knew that it would be difficult for you to accept many of the facts of your nature, including this one. It pains me to know you suffer because of this. But Kal-El, it is for the best."

"Why? Why is it for the best?" I lamented.

"Because, my son, to even suggest such a hybrid is unfathomable."

Hybrid? Did he mean…what I thought he meant?

"Consider, if you will, the difficulties that would be inherent in such a child. Biologically, the child's body would be exposed to the bombardment of what his human DNA would interpret as foreign cells. Likewise, his Kryptonian DNA would try to dominate those aspects that were more human. Theoretically, the basic genetic make-up of such a child would be in constant turmoil, human and Kryptonian battling for control of a body in which they were never meant to coexist. The abnormalities that would be present in the body would be devastating and potentially dangerous. I shudder to think of the challenges and difficulties that would face such a child. Be thankful that your own biology makes such unbearable ideas impossible."

I felt as if the air vanished from all around me, leaving me breathless. I couldn't move. I could only stand there, totally horrified. I blinked and found that I couldn't fight against the tears rapidly forming in my eyes. My chin began to shake, as did my hands. What hit me so profoundly and left me momentarily frozen in time was now causing my entire body to quake in anguish. Somehow, from some unknown place deep inside me, I knew that I couldn't let a self- righteous dead man have the last word.

"But I'm here," I mumbled. Slowly, as if I was gathering strength, I clenched my fists and forced the tears to stay away. "I'M HERE!" I shouted, and my voice echoed back at me, repeating my cry multiple times in a desperate attempt to prove my existence to the very walls.

"Jason," Superman said softly, reaching out to me.

I jerked away from him. "Don't touch me!" I barked.

He took a deep breath. "I told you, it was just speculation. Our people thought they understood human biology, but there are obviously some things they were wrong about. Our people didn't consider that—"

"They aren't _our_ people! They are _your_ people – not mine! I'm obviously not wanted here." Two tears fell down my cheeks and I wiped them away hastily.

"No one said you weren't wanted—"

"He said it!" I countered. "First, I'm a mistake," I hissed. "Then I'm an impossibility. And then I'm _abnormal_!"

"Jason, no—"

"You must think of me and all my abnormalities as punishment for breaking the rules!"

"That is not what I think!" he stressed.

But I didn't believe him. I couldn't. Not after hearing what his own father, my _grandfather_, thought of me. Not after being insulted and shown just how undesirable I really was in his eyes.

"No wonder you never gave me a Kryptonian name!" I spat.

"That has nothing to do—"

"I want to go home," I demanded, crossing my arms over my chest and wishing I could curl up into a ball and just vanish from his sight. I could feel him looking at me, judging me, deciding if I was worthy or not to be here in this place, in his presence. I couldn't stand it anymore, not after everything I'd learned. All I wanted was for someplace familiar. Someplace where I didn't feel so inferior. "I want to go home," I reiterated.

"Okay," came the reply, no louder than a whisper. His fingers brushed against my arm and I jumped away from him. "Jason, I have to touch you to take you home."

I kept very still as his hands took hold of my arms and lifted me off the ground. I kept my body as rigid and tense as I could. If I relaxed at all, I knew my emotions would get the better of me and I would start crying like a baby, and I did _not_ want him to see me cry. Not over this. I was not about to give Jor-El or any other Kryptonian alien the pleasure of insulting me and watching me cry about it.

To my relief, the journey didn't take very long and we soon made our descent down toward the coast of Virginia. It wasn't home, but at least my parents would be there. At least someone who loved me would be there. We landed in the spacious front yard of my grandparents' beach house. As soon as my feet hit the ground, I darted into the house and slammed the door behind me.

"Jason?" Mom said, looking surprised to see me. "What are you—"

"Mom!" I flung my arms around her and buried my face against her shoulder.

It took her a moment to realize that I was actually crying. "What happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it," I mumbled. "Just don't ever make me go away with him again."

To her credit, she didn't press me about it. It wasn't until later that night when she thought I was asleep that I heard her even call out to_ him_ for answers.

"You have to explain to me why he's so upset," she said in a whisper. "He won't tell me. He doesn't want to talk about it."

"Lois, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen."

He was such a liar. He knew what Jor-El was going to say. He tried to warn me, true, but he let me hear anyways, knowing full well what Jor-El was going to say.

"What happened?" she asked again. "I can't help him until I know the whole story."

There was a pause, and then he said, "Come with me, Lois."

"Why?"

"Because Jason is awake and he can hear us."

Angrily, I sat up in my bed and turned around to look in the general direction of his voice. "Yes," I said, knowing he was listening and watching me. "I can hear you and I would appreciate it if you would just leave."

"Are you sure he's awake?" Mom asked.

"Positive. I promise you, Lois, I will tell you everything, but I'm not going to do this here in front of Jason. I hurt him once today. I'm not going to do it again."

"Why not?" I said bitterly. "Just pour salt in the wound. Say what you want to say and get it over with."

There was another pause before he said, "He doesn't want me here, Lois, so I'm going to leave. Now, you can come with me so I can explain what happened, or you can stay here and wait for Jason to tell you."

Suddenly, I wished she would stay so I could tell her my version of things, but I knew she would go with him. I knew she wouldn't turn him down. It was something I was just starting to understand about my mother – that she had a difficult time saying no to him.

"Okay," she agreed. "But I can't be gone long."

"You won't be."

"And don't you dare try to turn this into something romantic. I'm only doing this because I need to know what's going on with Jason."

Romantic? My insides lurched.

And then it was quiet outside the house. As I waited for them to return, my eyes grew heavy and I gave into how exhausted I felt. The nightmare from a week ago returned in full force, only this time it was more accurate and true to life.

"You are not a pure Kryptonian. You can not possibly belong to the house of El," I heard him saying. "Your abnormalities and inferior human qualities are not worthy of the name."

And no matter how hard my mother tried to convince me the next morning that he hadn't meant to insult me, I couldn't believe her. She told me that what I heard was the ancient ramblings of a man long dead and that I shouldn't put trust in his words, but that simply didn't ring true to me. Of all the truths recorded on the crystals, why should I believe that the one thing pertaining to me would be the one thing I should just ignore? No matter how many time my mother repeated to me that my father loved me and never wanted to hurt me, I couldn't help but doubt her. I couldn't help but doubt _him_.

If he really loved me, then why didn't he just say so? If he loved me, why would he leave it to some holographic image of a dead man to explain to me that my very existence was an abomination? If he really loved me, he would have never abandoned me for all those months after I found out who he really was…who _I_ really was. And if he did love me the way he apparently told my mother he did, then why wouldn't he call me his son?

Needless to say, the vacation was ruined and I spent the majority of my time alone in my room. By the time we returned to Metropolis, I had come to the conclusion that the only way I was ever going to get past this was to prove it to Superman – prove it to Jor-El – prove it to every Kryptonian that ever lived – that I was not the abnormal impossibility they thought I was. I would show them. I would run faster – I would jump higher – and I would fly with more ease and precision than anyone had ever thought possible. I would show them. And maybe then he wouldn't be so embarrassed to call me his son.


	11. Age 13: Water Torture

_AN: Sorry for the delay in posting this. I've been playing around with it too much and I keep changing things. I've seen this scene in my head for a long time now. It's one of the scenes I was most excited about getting out of my head when I decided to write this fic. The phone call in this chapter has played over and over in my mind so many times that I almost felt like I was dictating it when I typed it out. I hope you all "hear" it the way I do as you read it._

_Also, if you haven't read In the Shadow of my Father, you may be confused by a reference to Jason's 7th birthday. That moment can be found in chapter eight of SomF should you be interested. _

_So many thanks to my beta readers. First to htbthomas for telling me her favorite part was the phone call! YEAH! And to Hellish who, I think, is starting to channel Jason to some degree! LOL! _

_A word of warning – minor as it may seem – Jason is growing up. Ahem. And this fic is written from a boy's perspective – a boy who happens to be going through puberty. Now, I'm pretty sure that the majority of my readers are female, so I want to be clear that I do NOT mean offense by anything in this chapter. I'm simply trying to show an honest representation of a teenage boy's life as he's going through puberty. That said… Collin is a jerk. You'll see what I mean as you read. _

**Age 13 – Water Torture**

It was quite possibly the most perfect day to go sailing. The sun was shining bright, the light sparkled across the water, the blue sky overhead had just a dusting of clouds, and the temperature was just hot enough to go swimming, but not stifling to the point where you didn't want to go outside. Alec Buchanan couldn't have asked for better weather for his birthday. And I was one of the lucky few who got to spend it with him and his family on their yacht.

Mom fussed over me as we pulled up to the marina. "Did you pack something warm? I know it's hot right now, but it can get cold out there at night."

"Mom, please," I groaned. "I'll be fine."

"Did you take your meds today?"

I growled. "Yes."

"And you have some with you just in case?"

"Yes," I hissed at her, but it was a lie. I hated that she treated me like such an invalid. I hadn't been sick in so long that I purposefully hadn't packed any of my medication. I couldn't wait to get through the weekend with flying colors so that I could go home and brag to Mom and Dad how I'd gone without any medication. Maybe they'd start to realize that I wasn't the same sick little boy I used to be.

As soon as Mom stopped the car, I flung the door open and jumped out, anxious to find my friends and enjoy the adventure of spending the night on a yacht. My best friend, Marcus Holt, was already on the deck of the boat. He waved at me as Alec came down the ramp to meet me.

"This all your stuff?" he asked, looking at the items I held gathered up in my arms.

"Yeah, this is yours." I passed him the gift I'd picked out yesterday at the store, and he grinned happily.

"Thanks. Let's take your stuff inside. We're still waiting on Collin."

Only a few minutes later, Collin Morrison had joined our group. As much as I liked Alec, I didn't understand why he liked Collin so much. He wasn't anywhere near as smart as the rest of us, and he actually seemed like a bully sometimes. But this was Alec's party and not mine. So, long as Marcus and I could have a good time, I wasn't going to let Collin spoil things.

The four of us watched as Alec's father prepped the boat to leave the marina, and soon we were pulling away from the dock. We whooped and hollered and made such a ruckus that I was certain Mrs. Buchanan would tell us to stop, but she didn't. My mom would have made us settle down, of that I was certain! Given the way the Buchanans didn't seem to even pay attention to the four of us, I knew without a doubt that we would have fun. Little to no adult supervision was the thing I'd been most excited about!

Once we were far enough away from the dock that screaming and yelling seemed silly, Alec turned to us with a wicked grin on his face. "Come on downstairs. I wanna show you guys something."

We followed him eagerly, laughing and trying to take the whole thing in, until we reached the main gallery, which was set up like a huge living room, complete with a big screen TV and several leather couches.

"This is so awesome!" Marcus declared. "I've never been on a boat like this before."

"Me neither," Collin admitted.

They turned to look at me. "Ah, I was on a boat like this once a long time ago. But I didn't get to, you know, have any fun or anything." For some reason, I looked around and was grateful that I didn't see a piano anywhere in the room. Or wigs.

"Yeah, well, your parents are rich," Collin said. "Must be nice."

"They aren't rich," I said.

"Sure – they aren't rich. They just own a plane," he sneered.

"Well, it's nothing like this boat," I pointed out.

"Yeah," he agreed. "You rich kids sure do stick together."

He brushed past me and joined Alec in pulling out a box from a hidden compartment in the wall.

"Don't let him bother you," Marcus said quietly to me.

"I'm not." I wasn't going to let a grouchy kid like Collin ruin this trip for me.

"Look at this!" Alec said in hushed excitement. "I found it last week and nearly crapped my pants!"

"More like you did something _else_ in your pants!" Collin laughed, reaching into the box and pulling out a magazine.

Marcus and I darted over to take a closer look. My jaw nearly fell into my lap when I realized what they were looking at.

Girls – no – women. Naked women. _Lots_ of naked women. Page after page of naked women. It was a whole box full of nothing but magazines that featured nothing but beautiful naked women. Beautiful,_ adult_ naked women at that!

"Holy crap!" Marcus gasped.

"I bet your dad reads these for the articles," Collin teased.

"Magazines like this have articles?" Marcus asked.

Collin and Alec laughed at him.

"You're such a virgin, Holt," Collin said.

Marcus didn't even flinch. "Yeah, like you've gone all the way."

"I have," Collin announced, much to the surprise of Marcus and myself.

"You… went all the way?" I asked in wonder. "With who?"

"Amy Fletcher," he said with a smirk. "She. Is. Hot."

"You are so lucky!" Alec exclaimed. "I knew you guys had done stuff, but… all the way? Really?"

"Really," Collin replied. I noticed that his heart started racing.

"Like, full out… sex?" Marcus asked.

Collin made a face at him. "That's what all the way means, you baby."

"So, what was it like?" Alec pressed in anticipation.

"Man, oh, man," Collin sighed. "Heaven. Pure heaven." He sounded very relaxed, but his heart was thumping away so fast that I could tell he was lying. One of the few perks of my hearing - I could literally _hear_ when someone was lying.

"Amy's got nice boobs," Alec said, trying to sound macho.

Collin shrugged. "They're okay, I guess. Kinda small, but she's got time to grow a nice set of tits like one of these fine ladies." He opened up one of the magazines to the centerfold and smiled at the image. "Now these are tits!"

I felt my face grow very hot as I looked at the picture. The woman had some of the biggest breasts I'd ever seen in my life. Not that I'd seen very many, and I'd certainly never seen any naked ones before. Well, not outside of what they showed us in health class in school. "They're huge," I observed.

"They're perfect," Collin corrected.

"I can't wait until next weekend," Alec sighed.

"What's next weekend?" I asked.

"I have a date with Emily MacInnis."

"No way!" Collin said, obviously very impressed. "She is one hottie I would love to tap!"

Alec frowned at him. "Well, she's _my_ hottie, okay?"

"Oh, sure," Collin said, looking back at the magazines, "you got dibs."

"Where are you going?" Marcus asked.

"Movies."

"Alone?" I asked.

"Yup. Mom said she could trust me."

Collin snorted. "Little does she know!"

Collin and Alec gave each other high fives, and I suddenly understood why Alec had invited Collin to this party. It wasn't because Collin was a good friend or anything, but because Alec thought Collin was experienced. And Marcus and I… weren't.

For some reason that I didn't think had anything to do with my limited experience, I started feeling queasy.

"You kissed her yet?" Collin asked.

Alec nodded. "Yeah, last week after school and a few times since."

"Any tongue action?"

Alec blushed. "A little, but it's none of your business!"

Collin scowled at him. "I tell you I did the nasty with Amy and you won't give us any details on Emily? That's not cool, man."

"Maybe he just doesn't want to tell you," Marcus broke in. Collin turned to stare at him, but Marcus didn't back down. "Some things should be private, right?"

"Like you would know anything about it. Have you ever kissed a girl? Have you even touched a girl?" When Marcus didn't reply, Collin said, "That's what I thought. Virgin."

"Alec!" a female voice called from up on deck.

The magazines were tossed back into the box and then shoved under the couch as fast as Alec could manage it. "Yeah, Mom?"

"I've got lunch ready!"

"Okay!" Alec looked relieved that his mom hadn't come down the steps. "We'd better go up."

One after another, the four of us made our way up on deck to where Mrs. Buchanan had sandwiches and chips set out for us. We filled up our plates greedily, taking more food than we should. Collin and Alec kept gossiping about girls while Marcus and I made our way to the table to sit down.

Again I felt that odd, queasy sensation and my stomach lurched as I considered eating.

"Have you ever…" Marcus started.

"Huh?"

"Have you ever… you know… done stuff with a girl?" he said quietly.

I frowned. "No."

"Have you kissed a girl?"

"No," I admitted. "And I doubt that Collin has done everything he says he's done. He's probably kissed and done some other stuff, but gone all the way? I don't think so."

Marcus picked at his food.

"Why are you worried about it?" I asked. "Collin's a jerk. And if he keeps messing around, he's gonna end up with some kind of disease."

Marcus started to smile.

I went in for the kill. "It wouldn't surprise me if by the age of seventeen, his penis turned purple and fell off."

Marcus snorted and doubled over, trying to hide his reaction from Alec and Collin. I doubled over as well, but not from laughter. Once again, my stomach did a flip-flop, making me very nauseous.

"You okay?" Marcus said, looking concerned.

"Yeah, I just feel… I think I'm seasick." I didn't have any other way to describe it. "I'm sure it will pass, though."

"Just warn me if you're gonna blow chunks, okay?"

Alec and Collin joined us to talk about the latest video games out on our game systems and the various plans everyone had for the summer. I was very glad the conversation had shifted back onto a topic that Marcus and I could actually contribute to. Not that I didn't want to talk about girls, I just didn't want a phony like Collin to mock me about my inexperience. And even though I managed to eat half of my sandwich, the uneasy feeling in my stomach didn't go away. In fact, it intensified.

When we were done and we had cleaned up our mess, Alec led us into the upper gallery to show off some of what he called his dad's "under sea collection." Since the plan was for all of us to go snorkeling later, Alec thought we should at least get a heads-up on some of the stuff we might get to see in the ocean. The shelves of the gallery were lined with all sorts of shells and sand dollars and other such remnants of aquatic life. There were a few fish mounted on the walls for display. And naturally, there was coral in a wide variety of colors.

"This is weird stuff," Marcus said, picking up a lumpy chunk of misshapen green and black rock. "What is it?"

"Oh, that stuff?" Alec said, taking it from him. "We're not sure. It's like some kind of weird coral. It's cool through, isn't it?"

"Green coral?" Marcus said. "I've never heard of green coral."

"Yeah, and it doesn't feel like coral," Alec added. "There's tons of it, though." He turned to look at me. "Hey, White, you're the science genius. What is this stuff?"

He tossed it to me, and I caught it. And I instantly felt weak at the knees.

I looked down at the greenish black rock in my hands with an overwhelming sense of dread. This was not coral. This wasn't even a substance native to earth. I was sure of it. I could feel it right to my very bones.

"Jason?" Marcus said. "What's wrong?"

I looked up at my friends, who were now all staring back at me, making me feel even worse. Could they tell? Had they noticed how dizzy I suddenly felt? How long before they realized that I wasn't exactly human? Marcus was already looking at me in concern. I knew that I had to do something fast or it would become very obvious that I certainly wasn't normal.

"I don't know what it is," I lied, handing the rock back to Alec. "I'm gonna go… outside."

Somehow I forced my legs to hold me up and take me away from the source of my illness. I figured once I got outside that the effect would wear off or lessen in some way and I would again just feel slightly nauseous, but I had no such luck. I sat down on one of the benches on the deck and wondered just how long it would take for the feeling to go away.

"Dad wants to take it to a lab somewhere and have it examined," I heard Alec say as they came up on deck. "He thinks we might have discovered some kind of new mineral or something."

"That would be awesome," Collin said. "They'd probably give you money for it."

"That would be sweet," Alec agreed, "especially considering how much of the stuff there is out here."

My three friends looked over the railing of the yacht and into the water.

"Oh, cool!" Marcus exclaimed. "I can see it!"

I gaped at him. Surely not. This couldn't mean what I thought it meant. There couldn't be more of it… in the water. I stood up, my legs shaking beneath me, and looked over the rail to have my worst fear confirmed. I turned and somehow ran over to the other side of the boat to see if there was any place safe. Again I saw it, deep under the water, the sparkling green rock I'd hoped I'd never see. And now I was surrounded by it.

I took a step back and found it difficult to feel my legs underneath me. I was weak. More than weak – it was as if my energy was depleted. Like the batteries that powered my system had completely worn out and left me with absolutely no strength at all. I looked up at the sun, so bright and intense, and willed my body to absorb the energy from it. But the sun was billions of miles away… and the water was closer.

"Jason, you look sick," Mrs. Buchanan said from next to me. I hadn't heard her approach. In fact, now that I tried to take notice of the things around me, I realized that I really couldn't hear _anything_ very well. It was as if the volume had been turned down.

"He said earlier that he wasn't feeling well," Marcus explained.

"It's probably seasickness," she said with a smile. "Why don't you go lie down for a while downstairs?"

I nodded and pushed myself up onto my feet. My legs were like jelly underneath me and I clung to the handrail of the stairs as I made my way down where I could literally fall onto the couch.

What was I going to do? It was everywhere. There was no place for me to go to get far enough away from it so that I could even start to feel better. I couldn't run away from this. Land was over an hour away. And the one person I could call out to that could even possibly come and help me would become just as sick, if not more so, if he even came close to where I was right now.

I didn't know what to do and I was scared. I was terrified. Would this kill me? Was I going to die if I didn't get out of here soon? I had touched the rock and it hadn't hurt me. I looked down at my hands to confirm that fact and found not a single burn mark. Wasn't this stuff supposed to burn?

I could feel my heart hammering away in my chest and fear took hold of me. I was starting to panic, and rightly so! But I couldn't panic. If I started to panic, then my breath would become shallow and I would have an attack. I couldn't have an attack now. I couldn't. I didn't have my medicine.

But it was too late. Even as I tried to convince my mind that I wasn't going to panic, I noticed that my breath was getting shorter and difficult to manage. The air around me seemed heavy and thick and I couldn't get enough of it into my lungs. I tired to breathe deeper, to fill up my lungs and calm down a little, but it was no use. I gasped and coughed and wheezed in and out.

This was not happening. This was _not_ happening!

I tried to slow my breathing only to find it impossible to get enough air. I couldn't breathe deeply without coughing, and so my breath became quicker and shallower. All the while, my legs felt weaker and my body heavier. My eyesight went slightly blurry and sounds were distant and ringing. It was as if my entire body refused to function normally. Even my heartbeat was out of control.

I sat up, desperate to try something – anything that would make me feel better. I'd had attacks before when I couldn't get to my medicine right away, but I'd never had one while sitting smack dab in the middle of kryptonite central! I was so weak, so tired. I'd never felt so tired before. And I was beyond terrified.

Suddenly, I spotted a phone on a table against the far wall. Clumsily, like a toddler learning to walk, I stumbled over to where I could flop down on a chair and pick up the phone. My hand was shaking as I considered what number to call. Mom… or _him_? Neither of them could do much for me. Mom couldn't get here with my medicine and he couldn't get this close to the kryptonite. Mom would be angry that I hadn't brought my medicine. But I didn't want him to know how frail and human I was. In the end, I dialed Mom's work phone.

"Lois Lane, Daily Planet."

I gasped… and wheezed… and couldn't find my voice.

"Jason?"

"Mom," I managed to squeak.

"Jason!" she said in a panic. "What's wrong?"

I wheezed. "I can't—" and gasped, "breathe."

"Where's your medicine?"

Gasp. "I don't—" choke, "have it. I didn't—" huff, "bring it."

"WHAT?" Jason! Oh, my God! Is this an attack?"

"Yes," I struggled.

"Oh, God! Jason!" She was angry, but more than that, she was worried for me. "Okay, you listen to me. Go out on the deck of the boat and yell for Superman."

"Mom—"

"Just do it, Jason."

I coughed. "No, Mom."

"Jason! There is no arguing about this! Go yell for Superman!"

"Lois?" I heard a familiar man's voice say in the background.

But Mom didn't hear him. "Jason, you know I can't get there in time. So, please, go and yell for him!"

"Lois, what's wrong?" he asked again.

"It's Jason. He's having an attack and he doesn't have his inhaler."

"Oh, no. Where is he?"

"MOM!" I barked hoarsely into the phone before she could tell him.

"Yes? What is it, honey?"

"Is that—" I gasped, "Mr. Clark?"

"Yes, it's Mr. Clark. Why?"

"Kryptonite!" I said as forcefully as I could. "Kryptonite!" I repeated, and ended up coughing. I needed him to hear me. I needed him to stay away. If this stuff made me feel this badly, I couldn't even begin to imagine what it would do to him.

"What did you say?" Mom asked very slowly, her voice dropping in volume.

"It's everywhere," I panted out. "In the water." I wheezed in and out – in and out. "I can't yell—" and gasped, "for Superman." Pant. Pant. "It would," more coughing, "kill him."

There was silence on the other end of the line while I continued my pattern of wheezing and gasping and coughing.

Somewhere in my brain I registered the fact that Clark was no longer talking in the background. I didn't know if it was because Mom had moved away from him or if he had moved away from her.

"Jason," Mom said in an unsteady voice. "Where is Mrs. Buchanan?"

I only gasped in reply. My strength was all but gone.

"Get Mrs. Buchanan on the phone."

I didn't want to do this, but I supposed it was the only way. I tried to take the deepest breath possible and somehow was able to yell loud enough to Alec that he came gingerly down the steps. 

"Holy crap!" he said once he saw me. "Jason, you okay?"

I shook my head. "Your mom. Get," I coughed, "your mom."

"MOM!" he yelled. "JASON'S SICK!"

I cringed inwardly, but for only a moment. Mrs. Buchanan came darting down the steps and ran over to me. "Jason, what's the matter?"

I held out the phone for her to take it. I closed my eyes and tried to ignore how sick I felt – how totally inhuman I felt. My head was spinning as I heard Alec's mom saying things like, "Yes, we'll do that right away," and, "It will take us an hour to get back to the marina," and "What can I do for him?"

She hung up the phone and I felt her soothing, motherly hands on my arms. "Jason, honey, let's get you up on deck for some fresh air. We'll take you back to the marina where your Mom will meet us with your medicine."

I don't quite remember how I got up on deck, nor do I remember very much about the journey back to shore. My body was so weak, and what little air I could manage to get into my lungs seemed too thin to do any good. I do recall Collin laughing and saying how much I sounded like Darth Vader. And I'm pretty sure Marcus told him to shut up, but I was too tired to notice much.

The further we went away from the kryptonite, the better I felt, but not by much. It seemed to me that the effect was lingering even under the bright sunlight. It worried me that I wasn't feeling better and I couldn't help but wonder if I was too human for the sun to really heal me.

By the time we reached the dock, my breathing was nothing more than a series of incredibly short, painful gasps for air. I somehow managed to squeak out an apology to Alec for spoiling his party, but he said not to worry about it. I knew, though, that he would never invite me out on his yacht again. Maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. I didn't think I'd ever want to go near water any time soon.

We docked and Mrs. Buchanan carried my bags while Mr. Buchanan helped me down the ramp. Mom rushed to me, hugging me for only a moment before thrusting my inhaler into my hand. I pumped the medicine into my mouth and took as deep a breath as I could. Right away, I could feel my airways opening up, allowing me to breathe more normally. Mom pointed to the car and told me to go and sit down. She talked for just a few minutes with the Buchanans, thanking them for coming back so quickly, and then joined me in the car. I was slumped over against the passenger side door, my head resting on the cool pane of glass separating me from the world.

"Let's get you home where you can rest," Mom said, and I could hear the worry in her voice.

I hated that. It made me feel like an invalid – like a disappointment. As if I needed to disappoint one more parent!

We drove down the street more quickly than usual. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back, taking in the sunlight coming through the windows. Now that I could breathe naturally, I was more aware of how my body felt, how weak and tired I really was. The sun was warm – strong – and I craved it.

My thoughts drifted back to my seventh birthday… when he had taken me flying all around the world… and something he said stood out to me, grabbing me and forcing me to pay attention.

"_The sun is strength, Jason."_

He had spoken with such authority that I didn't dare argue with him.

"_It is power. You must rely on it like you would a friend. If ever you feel weak or tired or hurt, stand in the brightest spot of sunlight you can find until you start to feel better."_

I remembered how small I felt, and how innocently I had responded to his statement.

"_Sunlight can make me feel better?"_

"_It might not make you feel perfect, but it will make you feel better."_

"_Really?"_

"_I promise."_

I mulled it over in my mind. _If ever you feel weak or tired or hurt…_ I'd never felt more weak or tired or hurt in my entire life. Never, even with all the hospital and doctor visits, had I ever felt this… wretched. _Stand in the brightest spot of sunlight you can find until you start to feel better._

I opened my eyes to see us turning the corner next to Metropolis Central Park. The sun was hot and the people in the park were basking in it, tanning their skin. I suddenly knew what it was I had to do.

"Stop the car!" I ordered.

"What?" Mom sounded panicked.

"Just pull over and stop the car!"

She did as I asked. "Are you sick? Do you need to throw up?"

I didn't answer her. I just shoved the door open and darted out of the car and into the park. My legs were still wobbly, but that didn't matter. I didn't have far to go.

Sunlight was beating down on me. I could feel its power as it warmed my body. I stopped just shy of the shade and stood with my arms out wide and my chin thrust into the air. The heat – the warmth – it was so staggering. I'd never really noticed how strong it could be until just this moment. My legs buckled under me and I sunk down to the earth, sprawling out so that the sunlight could now hit every part of my tired body. My breathing was starting to slow, and my heartbeat was growing steady, and the sunlight felt so good against my skin. I wanted to lie there all day, just soaking up as much sunlight as was humanly possible. Correction - as was Kryptonian-ly possible.

I'm not sure how long I lay there with my eyes closed. I heard the sounds of people laughing, playing Frisbee, eating lunch. I heard dogs barking and cars driving by. I heard my mom call my name. And then I heard _him_.

"Jason."

I opened my eyes to find him standing over me, reaching his hands out to me.

"Come with me."

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"Where you'll feel better."

I didn't ask any more questions. I didn't even remember that I was upset with him for everything that had happened the last time he took me away. All I knew was that he was here and he was going to help me, because I knew exactly where he was taking me. He lifted me off the ground effortlessly and in the next instant we were above the clouds where the sky was vibrant blue and the light from the sun was infinitely brighter.

I looked into the sun without hesitation, willing my body to absorb whatever energy it could. For the first time ever in my life, I wished that I was more Kryptonian than human and thus more capable of turning the power of the sun into power in my body. The radiation was thick as it pulsed through my skin, soothing every sore feeling and restoring my system to normal. I closed my eyes and dropped my head backwards, exhaling in relief.

"How do you feel?" Superman asked.

I looked into his concerned face. "Tired," I said too quickly. "I mean – I feel good. I feel so much better now. But I'm still a little tired."

"You probably will be for a few days."

I didn't understand. "But the sun…?"

"Can only do so much," he finished. "You'll need to rest. Kryptonite—" he pursed his lips in thought. "It all depends on how much kryptonite there was and how long you were exposed to it, but you could feel weak for a few days."

I nodded, remembering that even _he _ended up in the hospital once after being exposed to kryptonite. And then I remembered something else – something he would probably find very interesting.

"I touched it," I said softly. "I held it in my hands and it didn't burn."

He squinted at me. "Not at all?"

I shook my head. "It just felt like rock."

He hummed thoughtfully. "Regardless of that fact, it still made you sick, right?"

"I felt—" I wet my lips, considering what this would cost me to admit. He already thought I was a weak and incompetent little boy. Would this make things worse between us? I didn't want him to think worse of me.

"What did you feel?" he prodded. His eyes searched my face and I found the words spilling out of me unchecked.

"I felt like my whole body was shutting down. I couldn't stand up or walk even. Things seemed a little blurry and sounds were muffled. It was – it was horrible."

He nodded slowly. "That sounds about right. Was it… painful?"

"Painful?" I didn't understand what he meant.

"Yes, could you _feel_ it – more than just being tired or weak. Did it physically hurt you to be near it?"

I thought about that for a second. "I don't think so. I just – I just felt sick. And then when I realized what it was, I started to panic. That's what caused the asthma attack," I added quickly, making sure he understood that the attack was totally separate from the effect of kryptonite. "If I had tried to stay clam and not panicked about what was happening, I probably wouldn't have had the attack. It wasn't until I actually figured out what was making me feel so bad that my asthma acted up."

"But other than that, it wasn't painful?"

I shook my head.

"And it didn't burn when you touched it?"

"No."

The wheels were spinning in his head and I wished I could read his mind to know what he was thinking. Was this a good thing or a bad thing? Were my answers what he wanted to hear or was I proving to be, once again, a disappointment?

I looked away from him and took in my surroundings. The blue of the sky – the intensity of the sunlight – the quiet, peacefulness of the silence. I loved it up here. I could stay up here all day if he would let me.

"It's so quiet," I whispered, drawing his immediate attention. "Sorry, I didn't mean to – I know you were trying to think. Sorry."

"Is it really quiet for you?" he asked.

"Yes." I suddenly understood why he was looking at me in such an odd way. "Isn't it quiet for you?"

"No, I can hear everything."

Again I looked away, ashamed of my inabilities and the obvious dissatisfaction on his face.

"I can hear your mom," he said softly. "She's worried about you. Are you feeling better?"

I nodded wordlessly.

"Then I should take you back."

We landed in the middle of the park where Mom was waiting for us. A crowd of onlookers had gathered and were watching us very closely, whispering about what they thought happened and making crazy assumptions about the cause behind my rescue.

Mom flung her arms around me and held me tight. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Mom," I answered quietly.

She took a moment to look me over, inspecting me to make sure I wasn't lying to her, before shifting her focus to him. She smiled softly at him. "Thank you."

"There's no need to thank me, Ms. Lane." He smiled at both of us.

I felt the sudden urge to hug him, which was strange, considering that I'd never felt that before. I very nearly stepped up to him and wrapped my arms around him, but I held back. There were too many people watching.

"Make sure your son gets some rest and he should be fine," he added.

A jolt went through my body. Your son. He'd said _your_ son. And I heard the addition – not _mine_.

He waved and smiled at the crowd, as usual, before pushing off the ground and soaring up into the sky. I watched him fly away, only to be distracted by the fact that my mother was hugging me again. It only made the emptiness inside of me deepen and intensify.

Once we were home, I went right up to my room and collapsed face first onto my bed, falling into a fitful sleep plagued with dark dreams filled with kryptonite ships and the image of a man who frowned at me. A cool breeze covered my body and I couldn't determine whether it was happening in the dream or in reality. For some reason, my mind chose reality and my eyes flittered open to feel a presence in the room. I jerked around to see him standing by my window.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't mean to wake you."

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see how you were feeling. We didn't get a chance to talk… with the crowd there." He took a step closer to me. "Are you all right?"

I nodded, but I couldn't hold back the emotion. I felt a surge through my heart at the fact that he had come to check up on me. He hadn't just left me alone like he did so many other times. He came back this time, and that meant the world to me. My chin quivered and my eyes flooded with tears.

"Jason?" He was next to my bed now.

"I was so scared," I breathed, finding the strength to admit my fears.

He sat down on my bed and placed his hand on my arm.

"I thought—" I kept my eyes down, away from his piercing stare. "I thought I was going to die."

His hand gently moved up to my shoulder.

"I didn't know what to do." I choked back a sob. "I just didn't want to die."

"Oh, Jason." His fingers brushed my hair away from my face.

I don't know who moved first or how it happened, but somehow I ended up with my arms around him, squeezing him so tight, it was as if I were holding on to him for life. He held me against him, my head buried into his shoulder while his hand consolingly patted at my back. I felt safe. I felt almost… loved.

"Shh," he said. "I would never let that happen."

I sniffed, but couldn't speak.

"You're going to be all right," he assured. "You'll be fine."

"But if it happens again…?" I mumbled once I found my voice.

"Jason," he said, pushing me back so that he could look into my face. "I came here tonight to tell you that I don't think kryptonite can kill you."

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I've been thinking about it. From what you described, the way it wasn't painful and the fact that you could touch it without it burning your skin, I don't think it can kill you."

"But I thought it was deadly to you?"

"It is deadly…to _me_." He paused before saying, "But you are partly human, Jason, and kryptonite doesn't hurt humans."

"But it does hurt me!" I scowled, thinking he didn't believe me when I explained how badly I felt. "It did hurt! I was sick and I felt—"

"Yes, it made you sick. I don't doubt that. It does have an effect on you, but I don't think it will kill you. So if ever this happens again, and I'm hoping that it never does, you don't need to panic or be afraid that you could die."

I gaped at him, at a loss for words.

"Jason," he focused his intense gaze on me, "you look as if I'm telling you something bad, but this is a good thing. Kryptonite won't kill you. Your human side prevents that."

"How can you be sure?"

"I'm not, and it isn't as if this is something we should experiment with. However, based on what you told me, I really don't think it would kill you."

Why did he keep repeating that? It was as if he were saying, "Jason, you're too human for kryptonite to work on you. It only affects Kryptonians, and you're not one of us. You're only human." I lay back down on my stomach, pulling my pillow to me and wanting to sink into the mattress.

"Jason, are you okay?"

I nodded. It was a lie, but I figured he wouldn't understand why I was upset about this. Logically, I should be happy that kryptonite couldn't kill me, but for some reason I felt like it was just more proof of how inadequate I was. Like I had just given him one more way to prove that I wasn't a credible member of his family. Yet he didn't seem to notice that any of this troubled me.

"I also wanted to let you know," he continued, "that you'll probably be tired for a few days. Don't expect to feel perfectly normal right away. Give yourself some time." He waited for me to say something, but I didn't have anything to add. "It might take you longer to fully recuperate than it does for me."

"Why?" I asked.

"Well, just as your human side countered the effects of the kryptonite, it might also impede the way the sun can heal you."

Oh, great! Why didn't he just slice my arm open and pour lemon juice in the wound? That wouldn't sting as much!

"I'll come back in a day or two to check in on you. If you need to, I'll take you back up for more direct sunlight. Hopefully, that won't be necessary."

Yeah, hopefully. So you won't have to face the fact that your kid is a deviant who can't heal properly.

"Well," he sighed. "I'll let you get some rest now."

I didn't answer him. I couldn't. I didn't turn around to look at him.

"Goodnight, Jason."

Just like usual, he was gone and I was left, once again, to deal with things on my own.


	12. Age 14: Clear as Crystal

_AN: Sorry for the delay. I've been posting my fiction onto my LJ so that I could get better feedback from my fans. So far I've come up with some really great things, like pictures of what I think Jason looks like as he grows up! I also decided to record a section of the text so that I could better show my readers how I "hear" Jason. If you are interested in following the fic over on LJ, please come and visit me! alphielj dot livejournal dot com. _

_This chapter isn't as angst riddled as some of the ones on the past. I thought it would be nice for Jason to have a good day for once. The betas agreed with me. In case you are wondering, Jason plays Chopin's Nocturne in E flat Major Op. 9. I have a link to the song at my LJ should you like to hear it. I chose this piece because it is the only piece I ever took to contest, so it has special meaning to me._

_Many thanks to Hellish Red Devil for her undying encouragement. She write the best e-mails! And to htbthomas for chatting with me on the phone about plot devices and how to work an LJ. LOL! You both totally rock! _

**Age 14 – Clear as Crystal**

Meredith Madison was looking at me. Meredith-quite-possibly-the-most-beautiful-girl-in-school-Madison was looking at me. She smiled and flipped her perfectly curly, dark auburn hair over one shoulder. Her rich, brown eyes briefly glanced down, away from me, and then met mine again. She blushed, and I was certain I was blushing, too. She bit delicately at her full, pink bottom lip and I nearly came undone. Oh, good Lord, she was so pretty! Did she have any idea what kind of an affect it had on a guy to watch a beautiful girl bite her lip while she looked at him like that? Probably not. Then again, maybe she did.

To my surprise, she got up out of her chair and walked over to me, smiling that flirty, feminine smile of hers. My eyes fell from her face, down her body, to her hips. She had the most perfectly shaped hips and they swished just enough as she walked. Oh, man. Maybe I shouldn't have looked at her hips. Maybe I shouldn't have looked at her at all for now I was in a right dreadful state that was sure to get me in trouble.

"Hi, Jason," she said in a lilting, musical voice.

"Hi, Meredith," I said with an embarrassing squeak. Being fourteen really did suck. I wasn't sure which was worse; uncontrollable hormones or waiting for my voice to change.

"I saw you looking at me." She bit her bottom lip again, and my mind went fuzzy.

"Was there something you wanted?" Her eyes were doing that puppy-dog thing that girls were so good at.

"I wanted—"

She leaned closer to me, and I was immediately drawn to her breasts.

"You wanted…?"

"I wanted to—"

She gently brushed my bangs out of my face, letting her fingers run down the side of my face and linger on my neck. "You wanted to what?"

I was speechless. I was immobile. I couldn't do anything but stand there and look at her and let my body react the way it wanted to react.

"Jason," she sighed.

"What?"

She tugged on my arms. "Come on."

"Where?" I would go anywhere with her right at that moment.

"JASON!" she yelled suddenly. "COME ON!"

"Huh?"

"WAKE UP!"

I woke with a jerk, closing my eyes once again as I listened to my mother pounding on my bedroom door.

"You told me not to let you sleep past nine this morning. Well, it's nine, so get out of bed."

I moaned, wanting to fall back into my dream where Meredith Madison was flirting with me rather than deal with my mom shouting at me. But I _had_ asked Mom to wake me up. Today was a pretty big day for me. I would be participating in my first piano contest and I had planned on getting up early enough to practice my piece and still have time to relax before the event. Still… it was only nine, so I figured I could afford a few more minutes of my sleepy, imaginary fantasy. It may have only been a dream, but my reaction was very real.

I'd had a crush on Meredith all year long - ever since she moved to Metropolis. She could play piano, too, but she also sang. She was in choir and had a solo in the winter concert. I wasn't that good of a singer. I mean, I could hold my own, but I wouldn't be singing a solo any time soon! If it meant being able to get to know Meredith better, I would be in choir in a heartbeat! As it was, I hadn't spoken so much as five words to her. She would say hi to me in the hallway and my insides would turn into an unmanageable pile of goo. One of these days, though, I would talk to her. I'd make sure of it.

I exhaled deeply and then yawned into a long, back-bending stretch. Slowly, not really wanting to come out of my hazy, lustful thoughts, I blinked my eyes open and stared up at the ceiling. I'd have to get moving before mom came up here again. I'd have to get out of bed and start focusing on the reality of today rather than the hopeful longings of tomorrow… or next week. If ever I got up the courage to even talk to Meredith.

I cleared my mind of all things Meredith and focused on today. The dots on the ceiling looked like notes and for a moment I imagined I was looking at my sheet music. But only for a moment, for when I blinked again, the notes were gone. More specifically, the dots were gone. I squinted up at the ceiling, not quite believing what I was seeing. The white plaster faded from sight, followed by the wood of the house, and finally the tiles of the roof until I was looking up at the sky.

I blinked, shaking my head in disbelief. That hadn't just happened, I told myself. But when I looked back up at the ceiling again, everything slowly faded from view until there was nothing but blue sky and white clouds once more.

"Whoa!" I said, sitting up and immediately closing my eyes. I tried to shake it off again before opening my eyes. When I did, I chose not to look up but rather look around my room. I turned toward my door and fixed my gaze on the white paint of the wood until it became nothing more than a clear, see-through sheet of nothingness. Out in the hall I could see Mom coming towards me. I shut my eyes and groaned.

"Jason?" she said, knocking on the door. "Answer me so I know you're awake."

"I'm awake," I replied, once again looking around my room in uncertainty.

"Get dressed and come on down," she said before heading down the steps.

I sat on the edge of my bed, determined to ignore what was happening to me, and looked down at my hands. "Just don't look at the walls. Walls vanish," I said to myself. "Just… stay calm and… get a grip."

Yet as I tried to calm down, the skin on my hands started to thin and fade away, revealing bones and veins, until that too vanished through to my legs.

"UGH!" I screeched, shaking out my hands in repulsion. "That's nasty!"

My eyes darted all around my room. Surely there had to be something in this room that wouldn't vanish if I looked at it. But the harder I looked, the more things disappeared. If I kept my eyes moving, then things were fine. But the moment I paused and actually looked at something straight on, it would fade and I would see what lay past it. When I tried to stand up, the floor would fade away, which made me so dizzy I nearly fell down.

I cringed and fell face first into my pillow. "This is not happening," I mumbled to myself. "Not today. I need to be able to see today!"

There was no way I could look at my hands while playing the piano if all I was going to see were blood vessels and bones. I would vomit on myself if I had to look at that again.

"JASON!" Mom shouted at me, but this time she had actually opened up my bedroom door. "It is a quarter after and you told me to really lay into you if you didn't get up at nine today."

"I know," I moaned into my pillow.

"So, get out of bed," she ordered.

"I can't," I whined. "I've got…a little problem."

"So help me, Jason, if you say you want to drop out of the contest I'm going to—"

"No, that's not it."

"Then what is it? And will you please look at me when you talk to me?"

I groaned. "No, I can't. That's the problem."

"What?"

"I can't look at you."

"Why ever not?" She sounded irritated.

"Because I won't see you?"

With a huff she said, "What are you talking about?

"I won't see_ you_. I'll see bones and blood and gross stuff like that."

She paused a moment. "What?" Her voice had dropped significantly lower.

"I'm seeing though things, Mom." I explained reluctantly.

"Oh, no," she said softly. "Is it…X-ray vision?"

"No, Mom, I just normally see people's bones," I answered sarcastically. "Of course it's X-ray vision. What else could it be?"

I heard her heart race increase dramatically. "Can you see… anything?"

"If I keep my eyes moving, then I'm fine. But the moment I focus on anything, it just sort of, well, disappears."

"Okay. Okay. Just don't panic." Panic? I didn't think I was panicking. Somehow, much to my surprise, I was much more calm about this than she was.

She hummed thoughtfully and said, "I'm going to get your father."

"What can Dad do?" I replied as I heard her footsteps retreating from my room. It took me a fraction of a second to realize that she wasn't talking about Dad. She was talking about…

"Wait!" I shouted, opening my eyes and taking what little time I had with normal vision to chase after her. "Mom, please!"

She whirled around and I noticed the look of surprise on her face just before her skin started fading away. I closed my eyes tight. "Don't tell him," I pleaded.

"What?"

"Just don't. _Please_."

She took my hands in hers to steady me. "Jason, I know things haven't been smooth between the two of you, but this is not the time to—"

"This doesn't have anything to do with that," I said, even though I knew it did to some degree. "It's just that…" Oh, man, how to explain this to her. "Every time something weird happens to me, you run and fetch him."

"Because he's the only one who can understand what's happening to you!" I couldn't see her face, but I knew she had to be gaping at me.

"I get that, but have you ever stopped to consider how crazy that makes me? That it makes me feel as if I can't do anything on my own? Just once I want to be able to do something without having to run for help."

"But Jason," she took my hands, "when a baby is learning how to walk, the parents make sure he doesn't fall down. When a child is learning how to read, the teacher makes sure he knows what the letters mean. Everything we do we have to be taught."

She had a strong point, but my will was stronger. "Mom," I risked opening my eyes to look at her for a moment. "Every time I see him I feel like he's making a list of the things I can't do. Just once I'd like to show him what I _can_ do."

She sighed. "But the contest today…?"

"I'll make you a deal," I said, once again opening my eyes for a moment. "I don't play until two forty-five. Give me until noon to see if I can get a grip on this. If I'm not getting any better with it, then I'll call him myself."

"You'll call him?" It wasn't hard to miss how enthused she sounded at the prospect of me being the one to go after him.

"I will. But you have to let me try this on my own for a while."

"Okay," she sighed in uncertainty.

"How's it coming?" Dad asked from the doorway.

"It's not. What time is it?" I asked bitterly with my eyes shut tight.

"Ten thirty."

I groaned in reply.

I heard Dad's footsteps as he came into my room. "Can you play the piano with your eyes closed?"

"I could," I sighed. "But I've never practiced it that way. Besides, I don't want to go in there looking like an idiot."

He sat down on the floor next to me. "Can you tell me why you are on the floor?"

"Because I get dizzy when I try to walk. The floor disappears, and you have no idea how difficult it is to walk when you can't see what you are stepping on."

"Like walking in the dark?"

"More like walking on nothing. I know the floor is there, but what I see is under the floor. I can see downstairs and even below the house to what's under the earth. It's annoying."

"I—" Dad started and stopped abruptly.

"What?" I said, taking a quick glance at him, which was just long enough to see him frown.

"I wish I could understand what this is like for you, Jason. I wish I could say that I know what you are going through, but I'm a little out of my field of experience here."

"It's okay," I sighed.

"No, it's not okay. You're my son – regardless of your biology – and I don't like it when you are faced with problems that I can't help you with. Losing your vision…"

I looked at him again. "Dad, it's not like I'm blind."

"I know, but you are having trouble seeing things, right?"

I nodded.

"If only I could give you something that wouldn't vanish. Something that you couldn't see through."

I gasped and immediately knew what I had to do. "That's it!" I exclaimed, gaping at him. "Dad, you're a genius!"

"I am?"

"Lead!" I said, taking the risk to look at him long enough to see the realization cross his face before I looked away again. "I should have thought of it sooner. Superman can't see through lead." My eyes darted around my room as I mumbled, "Lead… lead… anything made of lead…"

"LOIS!" Dad called out.

Mom darted into my room. "Did he do it?"

"Do we have anything made of lead?" he asked her while I continued my search.

I heard her inhale sharply. "Why didn't I think of that?"

Inspiration hit me suddenly, "What about a pencil – a lead pencil?"

"Pencils aren't made of lead," Dad said over his shoulder.

"They aren't?" I said.

"Nope, graphite. Ever heard of lead poisoning?"

"Then why do they call them lead pencils?"

I watched for a moment as my Dad shrugged and turned back to Mom. I shut my eyes tight just as everything started to fade again.

"I'm going to go find something he can use. Anything. If it costs a fortune, I don't care. I'll be back as soon as I can. In the meantime, you two look around the house and see if we already have something." His feet pounded on the steps as he raced down the stairs. A moment later I heard his car pulling away from the house.

"Well, we obviously don't have lead paint on the walls or I wouldn't be seeing through them," I said to Mom.

"No, but I do have something." Her voice was soft and hesitant.

"We have something made of lead?"

She took my hand and started pulling me towards the steps. "We have to go outside."

I let her lead the way, opening my eyes every few seconds to make sure I wouldn't trip and fall over anything. Once we were on the deck, she maneuvered me over to the side of the house were her "garden" was kept. "Right here," she said.

I opened my eyes to see her pointing at one of the large planters that Dad thought were ugly. "The planter?" I asked, fixing my gaze on it and expecting it to vanish. But it didn't. It remained solid. I squinted harder at it, willing it to disappear, but to my great relief, it didn't. I stole a quick glance at Mom. "Awesome!"

Squatting down on the ground, I fixed my eyes on the planter and tried to determine what it was about the lead that made it impossible for me to see through. There had to be something, right? I wondered about the properties of lead and if there was something I just didn't know.

"Hey, Mom, do me a favor, will you?"

"Anything."

"Can you do an Internet search on the properties of lead and read to me what you come

up with?"

"Sure thing."

In another few minutes, Mom was sitting on one of the lawn chairs with her laptop in front of her in the middle of a Google search. "Let's see, according to the Wikipedia encyclopedia, lead has an atomic number of eighty-two. It's a heavy, toxic poor metal… bluish-white when freshly cut… used in construction… has the highest atomic number of all the stable elements..."

That caught my attention. "What was that last one again?"

"It has the highest atomic number of all the stable elements."

I thought about that for a moment, putting all my science skills to work in the process.

"Does that mean something to you?"

"Yeah, it does. The atomic number of an element is equal to the number of protons in the nucleus. Maybe that's what keeps me from seeing through it. My vision is based on the density of the nucleus." I took a quick glance over at Mom to find her with a look of total confusion on her face.

"You're not speaking my language, honey. Sorry."

Mom never was good in science. "My vision has nothing to do with the objects. It's the basic molecular structure that causes me to see through things." It was then, as I looked at my mother, that I realized she was still solid. I blinked and looked harder, waiting for her to begin to fade from my sight, but it never happened.

"I can see you," I said in amazement.

"That's good then," Mom said in relief, but she spoke too soon.

I shut my eyes tightly and shook my head in frustration. "I thought I had it – that maybe it was gone."

"Or maybe it was looking at the lead that made you able to look at something else without seeing through it," Mom hypothesized.

"Maybe," I drawled, opening my eye to look at the lead planter again. "It's interesting that we have this thing. How did you even know it was made of lead?"

"Well, see, that's um… that's um…" Her heart rate started to increase, which tipped me off to her answer.

"_He_ told you it was made of lead, right?"

"Yes," she answered quietly.

I nodded wordlessly, curious as to just what he had tried to see on the other side of the planter that would have made him aware the object was made of lead, but for some reason I didn't ask. I didn't really like hearing stories about Mom and him, and I was sure from the way her heart fluttered that it was something she remembered fondly.

Going off of Mom's idea, I spent a good amount of time focusing on the planter and then looking away at various objects to test how long I could go before the X-ray vision kicked in again. As time went on, the interval between the times I needed to look at the lead increased to the point that I was ready to try to play my piano piece. I took a good, long look at the planter and then darted into the house to my piano. After a deep breath, I started in on my piece.

I lasted through the first movement and was well into the second when my normal vision began to fail me. I swore under my breath, hoping Mom wouldn't hear me, and snapped my eyes closed again before continuing the piece. I found that I could get through the piece without looking at my hands on the keyboard, but it was difficult. The nocturne my piano teacher had selected for me had several big jumps, and even though I knew the feel of the jumps from all my rehearsing, I didn't trust myself to be able to hit the correct notes every time without the aid of my eyes to guide me.

It was around eleven thirty when Dad came home and was able to provide me with the very thing I needed to be able to get through the rest of the day.

"You wouldn't believe how difficult it is to find anything made of lead!" he announced, entering the house with a bright smile on his face. "But have no fear, I was able to come up with a few things and I settled on this." He handed me a rather heavy, bulky object shaped like an elephant.

"What is it?" I asked.

"It's a paperweight! I also found an antique set of little revolutionary toy soldiers that I thought were a bit overpriced, but I could go back and get them if you think those would work better."

"No, this is great," I assured, looking closely at the lumpy bit of lead in my hands. "I can keep this on the piano while I play so that if my sight starts to fade, I can look over at this and refocus."

"Is it getting any better?" he asked, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"A little. I think I'll be okay long enough to play my piece."

He smiled warmly. "I'm proud of you, Jason, for working this out on your own."

"Thanks," I shrugged. "I did have some help."

Mom came around the corner. "How's it going?"

"Dad found a lead paperweight." I showed it to her.

"Oh, well that works perfectly."

Dad seemed to stand up a bit straighter. "You mean… I saved the day?"

Mom leaned into him. "My hero." And then she kissed him.

I rolled my eyes and groaned. "Yuck. Please, take it into the other room before I get nauseous. One complicating health problem today is enough."

Dad ruffled my hair before he and Mom left me to practice my piece in solitude.

By three thirty that afternoon, I had somehow managed to make my way through my nocturne without looking like an idiot. The paperweight stayed in my pocket and came out from time to time when I just couldn't hold on to a solid image any longer. And, of course, it sat on the piano right where I could see it while I played. It had been about a half hour since I had finished my piece, and now all that was left to do was wait for the scoring.

One of the judges approached with the list from the last set – the list my name would be on. Next to me, Mom squeezed my hand in a reassuring parental gesture. Once the judge moved out of the way, teenagers everywhere swarmed around the list, each trying to read their score. Standing at the back of the crowd, I wondered if my newfound ability would actually come in handy for the first time.

Squinting through the mass of people, I ignored any internal organs that came into focus and concentrated on what was just past them – on the wall – the thin piece of paper.

"Jason?" Mom said beside me.

I held up a finger and said, "Shh."

The paper came into view… along with the list of names printed on it. It took all my might to stop right there and not see what was on the other side of the wall, but somehow, incredibly, I managed to do it. I scanned the list, finding my name near the bottom. Next to it was a number nine.

"Nine," I said under my breath.

"Nine?" Mom repeated.

I shifted my focus to her face, blinking back the urge to see past her in the process. "Yeah, I got a nine."

"Ninth place?"

"No. Just nine. A seven is a perfect score. There are seven areas that we are judged on earning one point in each area if it's perfect and up to five points if it's not so perfect. Nine means that I only got marked down on two things. It means I got a first place."

"So this is good?" Dad smiled.

"This is… really good." It was more than good. More like amazing. Considering it was my first time at solo and ensemble competition and I competed in division one… and the fact that just a few hours earlier I couldn't exactly see correctly. In fact, while Mom was hugging me, I realized that this meant I would be going on to the state competition. This was wonderful!

"Congratulations, Jason," a soft, high-pitched voice said from behind me.

I spun around too quickly and very nearly fell over in the process. "Hi, Meredith," I squeaked. Damn changing voice.

"You got a first, right?" Her green eyes sparkled like emeralds.

"Um… yeah. Yeah, I did," I muttered.

"On piano? Or did you sing?"

I nearly choked. "Piano. I don't, um, sing very well." She smiled and my brain went a bit fuzzy.

Somewhere in the back of my mind I registered that Mom and Dad had conveniently walked away from us.

"So that means you're going on to State?"

She stepped closer to me – close enough that I could smell the peachy scent of her shampoo.

"Um, yeah. Yeah. What about you?"

"Oh, I got a first, but I didn't compete in division one."

I frowned at her. "Why not?"

"I'm just a freshman, and I'm not that good of a singer."

"Are you kidding me?" I said before I could stop myself. "You have a great voice."

She blushed, turning the most beautiful shade of pink. "Thanks, but I wanted to wait until next year. I guess I just wasn't brave enough to try for it this year." She looked up at me from under her thick, black lashes. "Not like you."

I gaped at her, not knowing what to say. "Thanks," was all I could think of.

She smiled brightly and gave a cute, little shrug. "Well, I have to get going. Congratulations, again."

To my utter surprise, she went up on her toes and pressed her soft lips against my cheek, kissing me. My head was spinning, my heart beating more fiercely than it had ever beaten before. And my body… well… there was no way to stop the response from happening.

She walked away from me, glancing at me once over her shoulder before darting off down the hall to where her family waited for her. Her skirt flourished behind her, and I couldn't help but notice the slight bounce of her chest as she stepped. Oh, man, she was _so _pretty. More than pretty. She was beautiful. The perfect body. Which my brain suddenly told me I could have a look at if I really wanted to.

A quick, piercing slap on my cheek snapped me out of my lustful thoughts.

"Stop that right now," Mom ordered.

"What?" I tried to play innocent.

"I know what you are doing and you are not going to get away with that. So, stop it right now."

I felt my face grow hot as I tried desperately to play like I didn't know what she was talking about. Beside me, Dad started chuckling under his breath.

"Don't encourage him!" Mom scolded him before turning her back on us and leading the way out to the car. Dad gave me a quick wink before he followed behind her.

By eight thirty that evening, I'd come to realize three things about this newfound super power of mine. First of all, I could do more than just see through things. I could magnify them if I wanted to, which came in really handy when trying to see something at a far distance. Second of all, I found out that I had difficulty walking around while using it. I ended up bumping into people and various things more times than I cared to admit. After all, I wasn't looking at anything in front of me – I was looking past those things to what was just beyond. The last thing I learned was that if I used it too much, I got a splitting headache.

I'd just spent the last forty-five minutes or so wandering the streets of Metropolis looking into various apartment buildings trying to find the one man who would best appreciate what I had accomplished today. I wanted to surprise him with this news and I figured the best way to do that would be to show up at his front door, proving that I could see him though the walls of his building. However, that meant I had to use my visual powers pretty much nonstop until I found him. It was a great relief when I finally saw his familiar face.

Head pounding, I entered the lobby of his building to find a security officer sitting behind a desk. 

"Can I help you, son?" he said in a gentle voice.

"Yeah, I wanted to see one of my friends."

"And your friend's name?"

"Clark Kent," I said rather hesitantly.

The guard looked at me rather suspiciously before he pulled out a booklet and began flipping though. "I'll have to see if you're on his list of permitted guests. What's your name?"

"Jason White."

His finger slid over the page, coming to a stop in the middle. "I'm sorry, son, but Mr. Kent only has one name listed here – Lois Lane."

"That's my mom!"

Again the guard eyed me with curiosity. "I'll have to call up to see if I can let you in the building."

I frowned. "But I was hoping to surprise him."

He smiled an odd smile at me. "Sorry, but those are the rules. No one gets into the building without prior authorization from a tenant." He dialed a number and pressed the speakerphone button. Clark answered after only one ring. "Mr. Kent, this is Frank Hudson down at the front desk. How are you this evening, sir?"

"I'm fine, Frank. What can I do for you?"

"You have a visitor, Mr. Kent. There is a Mr. White to see you."

"Perry?" he said instantly.

"No, sir, a Jason White."

There was a long pause of silence as the guard waited for Clark to respond. I felt the guard's eyes on my face and knew that I was turning red. Maybe Clark didn't want to see me. What would I do if he told the guard to send me away?

"Should I admit him, sir?" the guard asked.

"Yes, um, send him on up," Clark said rather casually.

I sighed in relief, exhaling the breath that I had been holding and headed to the elevator.

"Third floor, Mr. White," the guard called to me.

I waved and thanked him, stepping into the elevator. My ride up three floors seemed incredibly short. There was a nervous knot in my stomach that I hadn't had until I heard Clark's hesitation to being asked if he wanted to see me. I just assumed that he would be excited to hear my news, but maybe he wouldn't. Considering that every assumption I'd ever made about him had been wrong, what made me think I was right this time? My headache pounded, only serving to further increase my worry.

When the doors opened, I found myself face-to-face with Clark, glasses and all. "Hi," I sighed, giving him a smile.

"What are you doing here?"

Not even a hello? I could understand him being upset, but at least he could say hello. "I came to see you," I answered.

"Why didn't you call?"

"Because I wanted to surprise you."

"Well, I'm surprised."

I felt like crawling back into the elevator and running out of the building, but I had come to tell him something and I couldn't leave until he knew. "Are we just going to stand out here in the hall or can we go into your apartment?"

"Oh! Sure, come on." He placed his hand on my shoulder, directing me down the hallway to the door marked Apartment D.

Once inside, I couldn't help but notice how sparsely decorated the place was. White walls, mismatched furniture, and nothing to embellish the walls. There were a couple of pictures on the mantel, but that was it.

"How long have you lived here?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Eight or nine years. Since I came back."

I gaped at him. "It looks like you just moved in."

"Well, I'm not here very often, Jason."

"Has Mom ever been in here?" I wasn't sure why I asked, but since her name was the only one on his list, it only made sense that she would have been here at some point.

"Once," he confirmed. "When I first moved in." He leaned against the back of his sofa. "It surprises me that she gave you my address and let you come here without calling to let me know you were coming."

"That's because she didn't give me your address," I said with a smile.

"She didn't?"

"Nuh uh," I said with a smug shake of my head. "She doesn't even know I'm here."

His brows furrowed together. "Where does she think you are?"

"Well, see, I had a really good day today and I told her that I wanted to go out and celebrate with my friends when I really wanted to come and find you so that I could tell you about everything that happened today. She thinks I'm out with Marcus."

"You lied to your mother?" he scowled.

I scowled right back. "I did it so I could see you. I couldn't really tell her that I was off to see Clark Kent, right? So, I _had_ to lie."

"Why didn't you just tell her you needed to talk to Superman?"

"Because I wanted to surprise you!" I repeated for the umpteenth time. "The only way I could do that was to find Clark – not Superman."

"And how did you find me?"

"I looked for you."

"Looked?"

"Yes," I snapped. "With my eyes. Through the buildings. Looking for you."

Our rushed conversation came to a brief stop as he considered my words. "You looked _through_ the buildings?"

"Yes! Like with X-ray vision!" I shouted. I'd wanted to tell him about my new ability in a good way, so I felt badly for having it burst out like that. I forced my voice to drop in volume and explained, "When I woke up this morning, I saw the sky instead of the ceiling and the earth instead of the floor. It took me forever to figure out how _not _to see through things."

He blinked, staring at me intensely. "Why didn't you call for me?"

I groaned. "Because I wanted to—"

"Surprise me," he sighed. "So you said."

"I thought you'd be impressed that I'd managed to figure it out on my own."

He closed his eyes. "I'm sorry, Jason. I shouldn't have been so hard on you. I'm just upset that you didn't tell your mom where you were going."

"She's the one who said I needed to talk to you, so in reality, I'm just doing what she said."

"But you didn't have to lie to her to do it."

"Why not? _You_ do. You lie to her all the time."

I'd apparently hit below the belt on that one. "It's just that I don't like the idea of you being out at night without Lois or Richard knowing where you are. How long did you look for me, anyway?"

I shrugged. "I dunno, an hour maybe."

His eyes went wide. "You have been wandering around Metropolis alone for an hour?"

"So?"

"Jason! Good grief!" He threw his arms up in the air. "What do I have to say to you to make you understand that it isn't safe for you to do things like that?"

I was livid. Here I had come to share with him what I thought would be some exciting and wonderful news, and he was getting all high and mighty with me. "It wasn't like anything happened to me."

"No, but it could have!"

"What would have happened?" I shouted. "I would have heard anyone coming. I would have _seen_ anyone coming. And it's not like anyone would have been able to hurt me, anyway. I mean, I don't feel pain like I used to." Except for the pain in my head right now from all this shouting, but I wasn't about to mention that.

"That doesn't excuse it or make it right for you to just—"

"Oh, God, just forget it," I sneered, going to the door. "I thought that you might like to know I did something right for once, but it looks like I was wrong."

"Jason," he said calmly, "come back and let's talk."

"No!" I growled. "You don't want to talk – you want to scold me." He always chose the worst times to try and act like a parent.

"That isn't what I was doing. I just need you to understand that it's dangerous—"

"For me to be around you. Blah blah blah – it's always the same thing. I just thought that for once I could tell you something nice and that you'd be excited about it. 'Cause you know, I did have a really great day. I mean _really_ great… until I talked to you."

His face fell. "Oh, Jason, no. Please. I would like to hear about your day."

"Forget it," I opened the door. "I'm just going to go home now."

I was three steps down the hall when he said, "Will you call your mom and tell her where you are, please?"

I shot him a look over my shoulder. "Why don't _you_ call her?"

He pursed his lips. "Why don't I take you home instead?"

"You mean _Clark_ will take me home?"

He glanced around the empty hall, taking in the surroundings. I did too, trying to figure out what he was looking for. I could hear his neighbors in their respective apartments, watching TV and having normal family conversations. No one even knew we were out in the hall.

After what seemed like an eternity, he said, "It can't be Clark, Jason."

"That's what I thought." I turned and headed toward the elevator, pushing the call button and then crossing my arms in front of me.

"Was your contest okay today?" he asked worriedly.

I looked back at him, shocked that he knew about the contest.

"Lois mentioned it at work the other day – that you were playing a nocturne."

"Yeah," I answered after a moment. "It was fine… once I figured out how to stop things from vanishing. I got a first."

His eyebrows went up. "First place?"

"No, just a first. They don't give first and second place. It's like you compete against yourself for the best score possible. I got a first."

"Is that good?"

"Yeah, hence the fact that I had a good day," I answered sarcastically.

He smiled, but it was a sad smile. "I'm happy for you."

I wondered if I should tell him the rest of it – about Meredith. I wanted him to know that not everyone thought I was abnormal, so it just spilled out of my mouth. "And this girl I like, she gave me a kiss on the cheek."

He licked his lips in thought. "You're a little young for a girlfriend."

"It was just a kiss on the cheek!" I bit out.

"I know. I just – you should – be careful."

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever." As if he had any right to talk.

"Jason, I just—"

"When was the last time _you_ got kissed?" I snapped. Instantly, I felt badly for having said it. The look on his face was gut-wrenching and he stopped talking altogether. At least I knew now where to hit if I wanted him to shut up, I thought half-heartedly.

The elevator doors opened and I stepped in. "I have to go. Bye."

"Bye, Jason," he whispered.

I slumped against the back wall of the elevator with my eyes closed, feeling incredibly guilty for saying something so hurtful. Yet at the same time, it angered me to no end that he hadn't been happier for me and my accomplishments. I honestly thought he would have said he was proud of me – that his son had done so many good things today. But I was horribly wrong. Dad said he was proud of me. Why couldn't Clark do the same thing?

Why did I even need to tell him, anyway? Why did his opinion matter? He wasn't there every day. He only popped in when things went wrong. If it really mattered to him what I did with my life, he would come around more often, right? So, it shouldn't matter to me what he thought…but it did.

I had had a great day. It may have started off badly, but I worked it out. I figured out how to use these alien powers on my own. I placed first in a competition and earned the right to go on to the next level. And the prettiest girl in school liked me. She kissed me. It was a fantastic day. I wasn't going to let someone like _Clark Kent_ ruin it for me.

On my way out of the lobby, the security guard waved to me and said, "Have a nice night, Mr. White. We'll see you again."

Under my breath, I mumbled, "I doubt it."


	13. Age 15: Slow and Steady

_AN: I wasn't going to write this section, but after a few people expressed an interest I decided I'd toss it in for two reasons. First, it's a bit fluffy and pointless and Jason needed a break from all the angst. The crap is really going to hit the fan in the next few chapters, so I figured he deserved something nice for once. Second of all, the time Jason spends with Meredith (as well as one other girl) really is a set up to his relationship with Kate._

_Thanks to the few of you who are still sticking with me and were kind enough to review the last chapter ! BabyKay47, Lisa, katbaby, Louise, heartnut, Rachel657062, cb, AgiVega, starbuckx, and elliania. And to my ever wonderful beta readers hellish and htbthomas. You both rox!_

**Age 15– Slow and Steady**

"Who are _you_ daydreaming about?"

"Shh."

"Same person as always."

"Do we have eye contact today?"

"Sort of."

"Should we move?"

"That would draw attention."

"You guys, shh!"

"Oh, come on, it's not like he can hear us."

"You never know."

"You think Jason White can hear the three of us talking about him clear across the lunchroom?"

"Someone could tell him we were talking about him."

"Did you see his t-shirt today? Oh, my _gosh_. So fine!"

"Will you _please_ stop that?"

"Stop what? Like you weren't ogling him all through Algebra II, Meredith."

"Tina has a point. The boy_ is _hot."

"He's _handsome_," Meredith corrected. "Stop talking about him like he's a piece of meat!"

A male voice broke through the female babble. "Earth to Jason! Come in, Jason!"

"Well, he's not athletic, but he's certainly swoon-worthy," Amanda added.

"That's why I like him," Meredith agreed. "He's not some dumb jock."

"Hello? Jason?"

I was torn away from the conversation taking place a mere few tables away by a hard shove.

"Snap out of it!" Marcus ordered. "You're about to start drooling."

"Sorry," I apologized.

My ears had become especially tuned into Meredith Madison's voice. Ever since school started up again a few weeks ago, I'd been noticing that there was a lot of conversation coming from her group of friends about… me. At first, I tried not to listen in, but after a while I just couldn't resist. I could find her voice pretty much anywhere in the school now, even through the general noise and clatter of a busy lunchroom.

Marcus was looking at me strangely. "Are you feeling all right?"

"What's swoon-worthy?" I asked, ignoring his question.

"Swoon-worthy?"

"Yeah, I heard some girls say it."

"About you?" he said a bit harshly.

"No," I covered. "Just… about someone."

"You're a terrible liar, Jason." He huffed and picked at his food. "Swoon-worthy means you're hot." Under his breath he added, "Must be nice."

I could sense his frustration and I didn't like what it implied. It was only a few weeks into the new school year and already it was obvious to me that things were going to be different from last year. It was just bizarre, really. I'd always been someone who kind of blended into the background and was generally overlooked by most of the students. I was used to being that "smart, awkward kid." I wasn't used to girls giggling and blushing as I walked by or the popular guys thumping me on the back as if we were good friends. Most people would see this as a good thing, but considering the comment Marcus just made, he obviously felt differently.

"I don't get it," I shrugged, trying to act casual about it. "What did I do?"

Marcus gaped at me. "Have you looked in the mirror lately?"

I frowned at him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that growing six inches and having perfect skin goes a long way on the road to popularity."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, come on."

"I mean it," Marcus said, taking a bite of his lunch.

I frowned at him. "Well, that's stupid. It can't be that I'm… well…"

"That you're tall and good-looking?"

"No."

"Jason, look at me." And I did. He was the same Marcus who'd been my best friend for years now. "I'm barely two inches taller than I was in eighth grade."

"So?"

"And I've got zits."

"Everyone has zits."

"Except you."

"Not true," I countered. "I had a zit a few weeks ago, just before school started."

Marcus made a face. "Oh, you poor, deformed guy. My point is that you haven't done anything different than what I've done except completely change the way you look over the summer. Your parents have always been a bit rich. They're practically famous. So, it was only a matter of time that you started hanging out with the 'in' crowd."

"Marcus, that's crazy. I'm the same guy I've always been."

"Maybe to you, but not to everyone else."

We were quiet for a moment. I couldn't deny that I understood what Marcus was talking about. I had grown taller – quite a bit taller. And I wasn't complexly clueless to the fact that I wasn't exactly the ugliest guy in school. But I certainly didn't think of myself as the most handsome guy, or even as "swoon-worthy." I was still on the skinny side, because I didn't really see the point in building up muscles if I couldn't ever use them to play sports. And I didn't think I'd ever figure out what to do with this mop of hair on my head. I usually just ran a comb through it and then mussed it up a bit so it wouldn't look like I'd tried to comb it.

"I need to run to the library," Marcus announced, standing up and pulling his bag over his shoulder. "I'll talk to you later." His tone was not the easygoing tone it normally was, and I was left to think about what he said.

I suddenly remembered that I had promised my counselor I'd check in with him sometime today. The school's tutoring program had scouted me to join them in helping out students during study hall and I had to get a permission slip in order to go. I hated study hall, and with our school on block scheduling, we had a mandatory study hall twice a week where students could meet with teachers who might be getting ready for a test, or finish up projects in shop class, or go to the library to do research. I normally spent my study halls in the piano lab working on music. But being part of the tutoring program would give me another option.

I left the lunchroom and headed down the hall to Student Services, where the counseling offices were located. Not really looking where I was going, I pushed open the door and came face-to-face with Meredith Madison. She gasped and jumped back away from me, blinking in surprise.

"Jason!"

"Meredith!"

We had spoken almost simultaneously, and now just stood there, staring at each other in surprised wonder. I slipped my hands in my pockets just as her eyes darted away from mine.

"Sorry," she apologized. "I was just about to leave."

"Oh, well… I was just… coming in." Good grief. Could I be a bigger dork?

"What are you here for?" she asked.

"Tu – tu - um… Tutoring." Seriously. I was the biggest dork on the planet.

"What subject?"

"Algebra."

Her eyes went wide. "Really? Me too!"

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Oh."

"I know."

"Wow."

"Yeah."

"That's cool."

Our monosyllabic conversation ended with her looking at me in confusion. "No, it's not cool. I'm lucky my parents haven't grounded me."

I frowned at her. "Why would they ground you for becoming a tutor?"

Her eyes went wide again. "Me? No. You don't get it. I'm not going to be a tutor. I am in need of tutoring."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

I was really surprised. Meredith was in my Algebra class and she never seemed to struggle. It was an advanced class though, so maybe she was having problems.

"It's all those letters," she explained. "I understood math really well when it was numbers. I got by in Algebra because my friend Tanya was in class with me and she is super smart. And Geometry last year was okay because I could visualize what we were working with. But this year," she sighed and rolled her eyes. "I just don't get it. Math is about numbers, not letters. I'm pulling mostly C's right now and I got a D on our quiz the other day. If I don't get my grades up, I'll have to quit choir. That was the deal – as long as my grades are good, I can be in choir. But if my grades slip, I have to quit the group."

It was the most she had ever said to me in one instance and for the life of me, I had hardly heard a word she said. All I caught was that she needed a tutor in the very subject I had come to sign up to be a tutor in. It was the most fortuitous event that had ever happened to me. Now, if only I could gather up the nerve to actually _respond_ to her without sounding like a complete and total idiot.

"Well… I could help you," I blurted out. "I mean, if you want help. I'm not the smartest guy… er… tutor you could get, but I know math pretty well." I shrugged. "But if you'd rather work with someone else, then I—"

"No! I would love to have your help!" She blushed, and looked at me from under her long lashes. "I mean, I need all the help I can get. If you wouldn't mind taking on someone as hopeless as me…"

"I wouldn't mind at all," I said in a gentle voice that surprised even myself at how it sounded.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Okay," she said with a bright smile. "Well, when can we start?"

I fidgeted with the lint in my pockets. The very prospect of setting up a time and place to meet with Meredith one-on-one had me feeling a bit lightheaded. "Um… the next study hall, I guess, would be the first time we could meet."

"I usually go to choir during study hall," she frowned.

"Oh," I frowned, too.

"But I could change that," she said quickly. "I _have_ to get my grades up or else no more choir."

"Yeah, I got that."

"Unless," she popped her hip and bit at her bottom lip, "you have some time after school."

I nearly drooled all over her, but somehow I held my composure. "Um, sure. Yeah. I do. I – I usually don't have anything after school except on Wednesdays."

She squinted at me. "What's on Wednesdays?"

"I go to piano lessons," I explained, a blush regrettably rising to my cheeks.

"Oh," she smiled at me. "But today's Tuesday, so you'd be free tonight?"

"Uh huh," I mumbled almost incoherently.

"Okay, well, I have choir practice after school, but after that I'm free. So I could come over to your house around five or so. Would that be all right?"

I blinked and my brain froze for a moment. Meredith Madison wanted to come to my house. And Mom and Dad wouldn't even be home until after six. They were never home until after six. That would mean at least an hour alone with her. I momentarily wondered if I'd be able to concentrate on numbers at all if she were sitting next to me, but I couldn't turn down the opportunity. I'd never forgive myself if I didn't at least try.

"That would be great."

She smiled at me again and asked for my address and phone number. Never in a million years did I think I'd ever be giving out my number to her, and yet here I was. She thanked me, which made my face grow even hotter than it already was, and with a flick of her long, red hair, she was gone.

I walked through the rest of the day in a dreamy daze with a look plastered on my face that I'm sure made me appear like a silly fool, but I didn't care. When I got home I ignored the note on the fridge to put some chicken out to thaw and instead went to work cleaning up my room… just in case, which only took me about fifteen minutes. That was one of the few benefits of having alien abilities such as inhuman speed. I made sure the dining room table was cleared off and got out my own Algebra book and notes. I checked my face in the mirror to make sure I didn't look as idiotic as I felt. My hair was a mess, but there wasn't much I could do with it. And then I waited.

Time never moves more slowly than when you are waiting for something really great to happen and it just can't get there fast enough. By quarter 'til, I had nearly worn out the carpet in the living room from my pacing. I had been excited when I first got home, but now I had this incredibly huge nervous knot in my stomach.

When the doorbell rang at five after five, it took all my willpower not to run to the door and swing it open. I didn't want Meredith thinking I had nothing to do in life but wait for her to come over to my house… even if that was exactly what my life had been like today. So instead of opening the door right away, I decided to take a peek at her… _through_ the door.

She was fidgeting with her hair, brushing it with her fingers and placing it just so around her shoulders. Then she smoothed out the blouse she was wearing and tugged on her jeans, slipping them down her hips a fraction of an inch more. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, muttering, "Just act normal. He's just helping you out. This isn't' a date."

I blinked and registered the fact that my mouth was hanging open in wonder. She seemed just as nervous as I was. Like she really wanted this to go well. Like she wanted to impress me. As if I wasn't already impressed.

Wanting to put us both out of our misery, I bravely opened the door and smiled at her, which earned me a smile in return.

"Sorry I'm late," she said as she brushed past me into the foyer.

"No, it's fine."

She glanced around her. "Wow, your house is amazing! And is that your plane outside?"

"Um… my dad's plane. Yeah."

"That's so awesome that your dad knows how to fly! Do you think you'll learn someday?"

I gulped at the irony of her question. "I dunno," I said honestly, because I really didn't know. Ever since I'd had my fifteenth birthday, I'd been waiting for something to happen – for some sign that I was about to defy gravity. After all, _he_ had first flown when he was fifteen. "I want to, but we'll have to see."

She gasped and darted across the room to the bookcase that held my mom's writing awards. "Oh, my gosh, is that the Pulitzer?"

"Uh huh," I nodded.

"Your parents are so cool, Jason." She looked over her shoulder at me. "Of course, it does seem strange that she won for an article that doesn't even apply anymore."

I frowned at her. "What do you mean?"

She gaped at me. "Oh, come on, you have to understand that the world really does need Superman."

I shrugged, doubting that I would ever be comfortable talking about _him_ to my friends.

"Have you ever met him? Superman, I mean," she asked openly.

"Um... yeah," I hesitated.

Her eyes danced in delight. "Oh, wow, I would probably faint if I ever met him. What was he like?"

I thought for a moment on just how to respond. "He's… tall." She laughed at me and I took that as a good sign that I could change the topic. "So, um… I was thinking we could sit at the dining room table. There's more room there than in the kitchen."

She agreed and for the next thirty to forty minutes, we kept our comments to math as we went over and over the formulas that were giving her the most trouble. I was sure she caught me staring at her a few times, but it couldn't be helped. She was just so pretty. And when she was thinking really hard about something, she chewed on the end of her pencil in a very seductive way, but I'm certain she had no idea I was even thinking such things.

"So you see," I tried to explain, ignoring how simply gorgeous her eyes were, "when you've got two systems to work out, you have to solve for x in the first system and let your answer contain a variable. Like x equals eleven minus y. And then plug in that answer for x in the next system, which will get rid of all the x variables and allow you to solve for y. Once you have an actual integer for y, you can go back and plug it into the first system and solve for x."

She blinked back at me. "You are super smart, Jason."

I blushed and tried to be casual about it. "Nah, math is just regurgitating information. It's not very creative or even much of a challenge once you see the process."

"Well, I don't understand the process." She sighed and flopped back in her chair. "This is hopeless. I should just give up now."

"No, you can do this," I encouraged. "We've only met one time. You've got to give me at least one more chance to help you out."

She kept her eyes focused on her hands, her face falling into a real frown. "You know what really stinks about this? I don't need Algebra II to graduate. I have two math credits as it is, but my father thinks it will help me get into a better college. He wants me to be a doctor or something important like that, when I have no interest in it."

"Well, what do you have an interest in?" I said, even though I already knew the answer.

"Music," she said without so much as a pause. "But my father thinks that's stupid. He says it's a foolish dream and that I'm deluding myself if I think I can earn a living signing. He says I can sing all I want to for fun but that I need a real career to support myself."

"Has your father ever heard you sing?" I asked, because in my opinion, biased as it was, if anyone could make a living as a singer, it was Meredith.

"Yeah, but he's more impressed by an A in math rather than a solo at a concert. So when I bring home a C and he looks at me with such disappointment, I feel like a total failure. Like I'm not good enough."

_She_ felt like a failure? And it was because her father didn't think she was good enough? I had no words to describe how connected I felt to her in that instant. More than just being attracted to her. More than just thinking she was a sweet girl that was never rude or conceited like some of the girls she ran around with. More than admiring her ability to sing. We had something in common; we were both afraid of our fathers thinking we were failures. She was amazing and yet her father couldn't see it.

"For what it's worth," I said quietly, "I think you're brilliant."

"Thanks," she said with a halfhearted smile.

"I'm not just saying that," I pressed. "I really do think you are brilliant. And talented. And your father's nuts if he thinks you can't make a living with your music."

Her cheeks turned the most delightful color of pink I think I'd ever seen. "I appreciate that, Jason."

My heart was beating rapidly in my chest at the knowledge that I could tell her exactly how much I understood what she was going through. It wasn't something I talked about to anyone, not even Mom, but I felt since she had shared something so personal with me, I should at least reciprocate.

"I kind of know what you're going through," I said shyly. "My father—" The word got caught in my throat because I was talking about _him_, not Richard.

She looked over at me with wide, hope-filled eyes. "Your father doesn't support you in wanting to play the piano?"

I sighed. "I don't really know what he thinks about that, but I do know that he wants more from me than I think I can give. He wants me to follow in his footsteps or something like that. I don't know if that's what I want – I don't even know if I can. So, most of the time I feel like I'm letting him down." As hard as it was to voice the things that I had been feeling lately, surprisingly it was also a relief to get them out into the open. My voice was very soft as I added, "It terrifies me sometimes… that I might be a disappointment… that I'm not good enough, like you said."

"But you're amazing!" she declared, and my heart melted upon hearing it. "You're so smart. You get straight A's – and the way you play the piano is just wonderful. How could he be disappointed in you?"

"For the same reason that your father is disappointed with you. He doesn't feel I'm living my life the way he thinks I should be living it."

"Oh, Jason," she mumbled, unknowingly taking my hand in hers.

I looked down at our hands and then back up into her eyes. They were bright and full of expectation. I didn't think I'd ever seen a more beautiful set of eyes than the pair looking back at me right now. I suddenly noticed how close we had shifted in our seats. In fact, our faces were so close that I could feel her warm breath on my skin.

"I have to tell you the truth, Jason. I haven't really understood any of the Algebra you've tried to explain to me today," she confessed. "I've been too… distracted."

"Distracted by what?"

She gave a small laugh. "By you."

I could only stare back at her in wonder.

She looked away in embarrassment and let it all spill out. "I know this is completely against the rules and you're probably going to think I'm a total wacko for saying this to you, but oh well. Life's about taking chances, right? See, the thing is, as much as I really do need a tutor, I came over here today because it gave me the perfect excuse to see you outside of school. Now, I know that you probably weren't thinking of it that way, and that's okay, but I wanted you to know anyway… just in case you might… want… you know…"

I swallowed back the nervousness I felt and dug deep for any and all courage I could muster. "In all honesty, I had difficulty explaining anything to you because _I_ was distracted by _you_."

Her eyes sparkled in delight. "Really?"

I nearly laughed out loud. "Oh, yeah. Really."

She blinked and a smile lit up her whole face.

"I really like you a lot, Meredith," I admitted boldly.

"I really like you, too, Jason."

Her eyes held fast to mine and I felt her leaning in towards me. It was like I was being pulled forward by a magnet, unable to resist the temptation right in front of me. I glanced down at her mouth to see her lips part ever so slightly. And then… contact.

Her lips brushed against mine so gently it felt like a whisper. I closed my eyes and breathed in the fragrance of her perfume. Not fully satisfied with such a hesitant kiss, I pressed my mouth against hers more firmly, delighting in the feel of how soft and delicate her lips were. I wanted to try and deepen the kiss, but I didn't think that was exactly what she wanted right now. Shouldn't I take her out on a date before I kissed her like that? And if she would let me kiss her like that, would I even be able to stop once I got started? I doubted it… considering the current state of my body.

We broke apart, and she had such a dreamy expression on her face that I felt as if I might turn into a puddle of mush just seeing her like that. And then I realized that she was looking at _me_ like that. I had brought on that expression, and I wanted more than anything to kiss her again and again if she would let me.

The sound of a car pulling up to the house broke into my thoughts.

"Do you think he's started dinner?" Dom asked.

"Are you kidding?" Mom laughed. "Knowing Jason, he purposefully forgot so that we will be forced to order a pizza."

I gulped and straightened up, knowing that my time alone with her would soon be up. "My parents are home," I announced.

Meredith blinked in surprise. "Oh, does that mean I should go?"

"That's up to you. But listen, before they come in here and make a scene or tease us mercilessly, as I'm sure they will, I wanted to ask you something." I took a deep breath and pressed on. "Would you like to go out to the movies sometime? Maybe get something to eat… with me?"

"I would love to!" she beamed back at me.

"Yeah?"

She nodded. "I've been wanting you to ask me out for the longest time."

Relief settled in my chest. "Okay. So… how does Friday sound?"

"Friday sounds perfect."

"Great."

"Yeah."

"That's cool."

She giggled.

"What?"

"Nothing," she laughed. "You're just cute when you're flustered."

My face felt so hot that I was sure I was bright red. Meredith Madison thought I was cute. She liked me. She had kissed me. And I had actually worked up the nerve to ask her out on a real, honest-to-God date. Who cared if Mom and Dad teased me about it all night long? Who cared if I was forced to sit though a very uncomfortable lecture from Dad about the rules of dating? Who cared if everyone at school was talking about it the next day? I certainly didn't. Even Marcus, who I worried about taking it badly, congratulated me - wished me luck even. For once in my life, everything seemed to be going my way. Everything was right. I only hoped it would last for a good long while.


	14. Age 15 and a half: Grounded

_AN: I've thought about this scene a lot since I first came up with the idea for writing a story where Jason and Supes don't have a good relationship. It's gone through a few changes, but I finally decided that this is how it works best. I hope you feel the same way about it. When I first envisioned this whole story arc, I considered what would have to happen to tick someone off the most. I don't have a super hero for a father, but I think everyone can agree that the ability to fly on your own would be down right awesome! Thus, I purposefully took that ability away from Jason when I wrote "Shadow of my Father." Now, having gone back and written up to that point, I hope this chapter makes it clear to everyone just how much that hurts him and why it was such a turning point in his young life. _

_Many thanks to the beta readers on this one. Htbthomas the super beta - who once again called me on my habit of changing tenses. Grrr... just when I think I have that one nicked. And Hellish Red Devil who has become the ultimate fangurl in her comments. That totally fuels me on and keeps me writing more! You guys rox!_

_Lastly – there are over 40 of you with this fic on alert. I think the alert thingy isn't working because I haven't heard from so many of you in a long time. If you would like more updates and teasers and to participate in discussion and see pictures I have found that fit with the story, please visit me on my LJ. E-mail me at alphielj at yahoo dot com and I will send you a link to where you can find the story if you are having trouble searching LJ. _

**Age 15 and a half – Grounded**

The noise level on the bus was rather irritating, especially to someone with overly sensitive ears like mine, but there wasn't much I could do about it. Like so many other things, I would just have to deal with it privately and try not to draw attention to the fact that I was getting a headache. I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples in a hopeless attempt to ease some of my discomfort.

"Do you have a headache?" Meredith asked from beside me.

"Just a little one," I admitted, giving her a half-hearted smile.

"Want me to rub your neck?"

Before I could answer yes or no, her fingers were at the nape of my neck, squeezing and rubbing against my skin, relaxing me almost instantly. It was always one way or the other with her. She either made me feel totally relaxed and at ease or so on edge with excitement and/or anxiety that my heart would race. There wasn't much of a middle ground with her.

"Look at that," she mumbled while watching the world pass by outside.

"What?"

"There's nothing here."

I looked out the window to see the farmhouses and fields that she was describing as nothing. "Sure there is. There's a barn and some cows and a tractor…"

"Jason," she groaned and her hand on my neck stilled. "You know what I mean. There's nothing to _do_."

"I think it looks peaceful."

"And I think I would go insane if I had to live out here." She smiled up at me and called my bluff. "You can't tell me that you would like it out here, because I know how much you love the city."

"I didn't say I wanted to live out here. I just said it looked peaceful." My gaze lingered on the open fields passing by in a blur of yellow. "Haven't you ever wanted to escape to someplace quiet? Someplace where there are no distractions. Where it's just… wide open… and you can just run and be free?"

She made a face at me. "No."

I shrugged. "Well, I have."

Our eyes met and I could feel that familiar tingle in my gut whenever she looked at me like _that_. "Every time I think I've got you figured out," she said, "you go and surprise me."

Raising one eyebrow at her, I said, "I wouldn't want you to get bored with me. Where's the fun in being predictable?"

She giggled and pulled my face down to hers for a soft kiss. She pulled away with a beautiful smile on her lips and resumed rubbing my neck. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the sensation of her hands on my skin. We'd been together for almost three months now, but since we saw each other every day at school it seemed like longer. Still, I didn't think I'd ever stop feeling that twinge of excitement over the fact that she wanted to touch me… that she would willingly touch me. Not that we had done much of anything that would get us into real trouble, but it wasn't as if I hadn't at least thought about it.

Outside, I saw the sign for our final destination and felt a rush of relief that I'd soon be free of the constant noise surrounding me. Noise in the open air was certainly more tolerable than noise in an enclosed school bus.

"Hey," Marcus said from behind me, giving me a bop on the head. "You got any aspirin?"

"No," I groaned. "If I did, I'd be taking it myself."

"It sucks that we have to travel this way," Liz said beside him. "It's bad enough that we are forced to endure such lame field trips like this, but couldn't they at least supply us with decent travel accommodations?"

"A field trip might be lame," Marcus said, "but it's better than sitting through another one of Mr. Bender's boring lectures on the historical influence of Chaucer."

"_The Canterbury Tales_ weren't that bad," Meredith said. "It was better than _Lord of the Flies_. Blech!" She made a face.

At last, the bus slowed down before it jerked to a stop. We all climbed off and stepped out into the wide, open space of Nowheresville, New York.

"I hate agriculture," Liz mumbled.

Marcus took her hand, "Don't tell me you're afraid of cows?"

"No, I'm afraid of stepping in something a cow has left behind. These are new shoes!" she explained, twisting her foot just so to show off her stylish footwear.

"Come on," Meredith tugged on Liz's arm. "Potty break."

"We'll meet you over at the entrance," I said.

"What is it with girls and the need to pee together?" Marcus asked once the girls were out of earshot.

I shrugged. "I dunno. Ask them."

He gave me look. "No way. Come on, let's go get our tickets."

The school had felt it necessary to implement an agricultural appreciation week once a year to better round out our otherwise very city-oriented education. It started a few years ago, and this year they decided to send the entire sophomore class to a historical farm upstate to spend the day learning not only about agriculture, but history as well. Not many of us really looked forward to the day, but what choice did we have? The Holland Farm, as it was called, wasn't going to be the most exciting field trip ever, but at least we weren't in class and had the chance to be outside on this beautiful autumn day.

Marcus elbowed my side. "Why don't we split up and tackle two things at once. You go get our lunch packs and water and I'll go get the tickets."

"Okay," I agreed and headed off to the concession area to pick up four sack lunches and four bottles of water. The line wasn't too long, and while I waited I looked off into the distance, past the entrance to the farm, and out into the seemingly endless amount of land stretching out in front of me. It had been a long time since I'd seen so much open space.

_A person could do an awful lot of running out there and never be seen by anyone._

Three years. It had been three years since I'd really been able to run as fast as I could without worrying someone would see me. Three years since I'd tested the limits of what this alien body could really do. Three years since I'd really even had the chance. Just looking out at the corn made me realize how much I wanted to have another chance, but this time it was about something more than just running and jumping. This time that chance was about flying.

For months now I'd been waiting for it to happen. I would wake up and swing my legs over the edge of my bed and wonder if I was actually going to touch the floor today. Once my feet would be firmly planted on the ground, I would jump and expect to stay in the air. I'd tried and tried, over and over again. I'd even risked it a few times outside of my house in the middle of the night. I climbed up a ladder to get as high as I could and jumped off, hoping I would somehow float and never touch the ground. But nothing seemed to be working so far.

My sixteenth birthday was only a few months away. I knew that _he_ had flown when he was fifteen, so that meant I only had a short amount of time to figure this one out or I'd be really behind him. I knew I'd never be as fast or as strong as him, and that fact always seemed to disappoint him, but I figured that once I learned how to fly he'd look past my other faults and come to accept me for who I was – as his son.

I squinted, zeroing my vision in on a point several miles away. There was another farm with a water tower in the middle of the field. That's how _he_ had first flown. He jumped off the tower on his farm and fell through the roof of the barn but never hit the ground. Maybe I could somehow get on top of a tower and try the same technique? Maybe if I could jump high enough, gravity would unnaturally reverse itself and I'd defy it for once. Maybe… if only I had enough space.

And this was the first time in three years I'd even been presented with enough space to even attempt it. I had to try.

"Here you go," the lady handing out lunches said to me.

I hadn't even noticed the line had moved forward. "Um… thanks."

I took only one bag for myself. Glancing around, I didn't see any sign of Marcus or the girls. No one was even looking at me. Much in the same way I'd seen Clark maneuver time and time again, I casually slipped around the side of the visitors' building, where I was completely hidden from any curious onlooker's view. Then, after taking a deep breath and once more making sure no one could see me, I darted away from the building as fast as I could.

In a few seconds, I was standing beside the water tower, slightly out of breath. I sat my bag lunch down on the ground and looked up into the sky. Even though the air was cool on this fall day, the sunlight was so bright, so intense. It felt stronger out here in the open than it did in Metropolis, which made sense when I considered that the air in the city was more polluted. Out here in the open, there was nothing to block the radiation from reaching me. No wonder he liked to fly so much. It was the fastest way he could reach pure sunlight. Now it was my chance to do the same. My chance to fly up above the clouds and feel the full power of the sun.

I took a slow, deep breath and concentrated all my energy on being as light as I could. And then I was off. I ran as fast as my legs would carry me before pushing off the ground and soaring into the air. I felt the slight lurch of my stomach as for a split second, I was weightless…until gravity pulled me down again. I hit the ground with a thud, falling forward into the dirt.

I stood up and brushed myself off. That wasn't bad for my first try. Not bad… but not good enough either. I had to be faster, stronger. I had to jump higher. I had to push myself more than I'd ever pushed before if I was going to accomplish this.

I tried a second time, my feet brushing against the earth so fast that dust flew up behind me. I jumped into the air and again soared weightless for a moment before plummeting back to the ground. Determined to get this right, I didn't wait long before making my third attempt. Into the air I went, only to come right back down again.

I landed close to the water tower. If anything was holding me back it was the fact that I wasn't able to get high enough. If I jumped off of the water tower, surely that would give me enough airtime to resist the pull of gravity and stay in the air, if only for a minute or two. That's all I needed. I could _feel_ my body wanting to resist it; I only needed that quick minute to make that all-important adjustment.

I pushed off the ground, grabbed onto the edge of the water tower, and pulled myself up on top of the tower, where I had a perfect view of the surrounding field. Closing my eyes and tilting my face upward, I willed my body to absorb as much sunlight as it could. I tried to push the human part of me to the background and let the Kryptonian side of my nature take over. I could feel my body responding to the heat and knew that if ever I was ready to fly, now was the time. Opening my eyes, I set my aim away from the barn and the house and out into the center of the farm. I walked slowly back to the other edge of the tower, took a deep breath, and charged ahead as hard and as with as much determination I could muster.

My body flew into the air and again that feeling of weightlessness overcame me. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the sensation of being free from the restraints of the earth – free from the pull of gravity. _Free_. There was no other feeling like this in the world, and I wanted it to last forever.

Suddenly, I was being pulled downward. I opened my eyes in time to see the ground rushing up at me before hitting down hard a split second later. I rolled over, dust flying around me everywhere, until I came to a stop lying flat on my back.

That hadn't exactly felt good. In fact, it kind of hurt a bit. Coughing from all the dust, I sat up slowly, noticing a pain in my side as I moved. "Ouch," I groaned, touching the tender spot on my side.

"Jason!"

I turned around, wincing slightly, to see _him_ land and rush over to where I was still sitting on the ground.

"Are you all right?"

His face was screwed up in worry and his voice wasn't the usual calm and collected sound he normally reserved for Superman. It was more like Clark's voice. He was looking at me as if he had never seen me before. I was surprised and curious as to why he was acting so strangely.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I think I just landed too hard."

Before I could register what was happening, his arms were around me, holding me tightly as he whispered a soft, "Oh, thank God."

I blinked and froze in place, completely taken aback by his curious and sudden emotional outpour. After a moment, I pulled away and looked up at him in confusion. "What's wrong?"

His hands rested on my shoulders. "The school called your mother. They said you vanished – that no one had seen you since you arrived at the Holland Farm. Lois has been in a total panic thinking something awful happened to you. Richard got into it with the police because they said they couldn't start a search for you until you were missing for forty-eight hours. And I—" He took a deep breath and ran a hand down the side of my face. "I'm just so glad you're okay."

I wasn't sure what to say. It wasn't normal for him to be this out of sorts. It was an understatement to say that I was shocked he seemed as worried as he was. He'd never acted like this before and it made me uncomfortable. I wasn't used to him being so… affectionate. Feeling a bit claustrophobic by his closeness, I took a step away from him.

"What are you doing out here anyway?" he asked.

I shrugged. "I just – you know – needed some space."

"What do you—" He stopped short, having caught on to my meaning. "Space? To run?"

"Yeah. You know, like you showed me in Kansas," I confirmed.

He frowned down at me. "So you skipped class to come out here?"

"It's not like I'm missing much of anything important," I said flippantly. "This is just a field trip."

"But you didn't tell anyone you were coming out here. People have been worried about you."

"Well, it's not like I _could_ tell anyone. 'No one can know, Jason,'" I quoted him, mocking his deep voice. "How many times have you told me that?"

"Yes, you're right," he agreed. "But you could have asked me. If you wanted to come to a place like this, you should have just asked me."

"Yeah, 'cause the last time you took me somewhere it ended so well. I'd really like a repeat of that experience."

Sighing heavily, he said, "The point is that you can't just wander off and not tell someone where you are. Didn't you even think that someone might worry about you? Your teacher? Your friends? What about your mother? You have her scared out her mind that something bad has happened to you."

I moaned in frustration. How typical of him to stay away from me for a long period of time and then show up just to scold me. "Okay, I get the point. I'll never do it again. I just…"

"Just what?"

"Just thought maybe I could…"

"Could what?"

I rolled my eyes. "It doesn't matter."

He wet his lips and looked down at me sadly. "I need to take you back to your class."

"But they'll see," I protested.

"I'll take you just far enough—"

"I can get back on my own. It's not that far. Just… go and tell Mom I'm okay."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, just go." For someone who was always worried about people finding out about our relationship, it sure was odd that he was so willing to risk being spotted now.

He smiled at me. "I'm glad you're safe, Jason. I'll wait here until I can see that you are back with your class."

I groaned again, but knew it was pointless to argue with him. Before he could scold me further or offer any more unwanted parental advice, I darted back towards the Holland Farm where my class was busy touring the grounds.

When my teacher saw me, and once they had verified that I had indeed wandered off of my own free will and hadn't been abducted, I was thoroughly reprimanded and given my first detention ever. Meredith had tears in her eyes when she saw me. She hugged me tight and repeatedly told me how worried she had been. Marcus clapped me on the back and told me that the next time I planned to skip a boring field trip that I should let him know ahead of time so he could join me. That statement didn't make Meredith happy at all, and she spent the ride back to school sitting next to her girlfriends and not me.

When I arrived at home, Mom was waiting for me. She was livid, anger fuming from every pore. I hadn't even taken my jacket off before she laid into me. "I cannot believe that you would do such a thing! What were you even _thinking_ taking off like that? Have you any idea how terrified I was?"

"Mom—"

"You had all of us scared out of our minds with worry, Jason! Didn't you even consider what it would look like to us for you to just disappear like that?"

"No, I didn't," I admitted, which evidently surprised Mom because she stopped yelling at me. "I'm sorry," I added softly. "But Mom, you need to understand that I can protect myself. If anyone did try to hurt me or kidnap me or whatever you were thinking, I could fight back. I'm not a little boy. I'm a lot stronger and tougher than I look."

She pursed her lips. "And you need to understand that you are still my son and that I will always worry about you. You're right, you're not a little boy, but you aren't an adult yet either. There are still rules to follow, Jason, and you broke some pretty big ones today."

"I know," I sighed.

She nodded at me. "The school said you would be punished. Did they suspend you?"

I shook my head. "Detention all next week."

"I've very upset at you. You are too good of a student to have that kind of thing on your record." She crossed her arms in front of her. "When Richard comes home, we'll talk about your punishment here."

My mouth snapped open. "But Mom, I had a good reason!"

"There is no good reason to skip school and scare everyone half to death!"

"But Mom—"

"You have to be more careful. Have you any idea what someone could do – how they could use you – exploit who you are? You are special, Jason!"

"I know!" I yelled before I could even register what she was saying. After a pause I went on. "I skipped out because I needed some space."

"To do what? Test your powers?"

"Yes," I said too quickly. Mom waited for me to explain more, and so, rather hesitantly, feeling more and more embarrassed by the second that I had to admit this to her, I said, "I was trying… trying to… um… to fly."

Her face softened. "And how did it go?" she asked softly.

"It didn't," I grumbled. "I almost got it, but…_ he_ showed up and made me go back to class."

"Why didn't you just tell us that you needed to try this? If you had told us you wanted some space, we would have taken you—"

"If I had told you, then you would have told _him_, and I really don't want to fail in front of him again. So I had to do this on my own."

She bit at her lip a moment. "All right. I can buy that. But it doesn't change the fact that skipping school is out of line and that you were wrong not to at least call me and tell me you were okay. Next time you feel the urge to take a detour like that, at least call home and let someone know you aren't lying dead somewhere."

I could agree to that. "Okay. I'm sorry I worried you like that."

"And there will still be a punishment."

I grimaced at her.

"It won't be too severe, but I have to talk it over with Richard and see what he says."

I could see her point, but I had hoped that once she heard my reason for ditching the field trip that she would drop my punishment altogether. I could only hope she wouldn't ground me, but I didn't want to press my luck by pushing any harder.

"Go on up to your room and get your homework done," she said. "No video games or computer unless you need it for your schoolwork."

That was probably going to be my punishment – no Internet or games. They had taken that away from me once or twice before, so it wouldn't surprise me if they did it again. I could live with that.

I trudged up the steps to my bedroom and flopped down on the bed, feeling both tired and disappointed about everything that had happened today – especially considering the one thing that _hadn't_ happened. If only I had had the chance to try once more. I was so very close. I could feel it in the way my body lurched forward when I was in the air. I had been a spilt second away from flying, and I just hadn't had enough airtime to adjust properly. I needed to try it again, but the problem was that now they knew what I was trying to do. Now they would be waiting. _He_ would be waiting… and watching. The sooner I figured this out the better.

I had only been up in my room about five minutes when I heard the unmistakable sound of his voice downstairs.

"Hello, Lois," he said gently.

"I wondered if you'd come by," Mom replied.

"How is he? What happened?"

"Well, he got detention for skipping the field trip."

I heard him sigh and instinctively knew he was upset with me.

"But at least he's safe," Mom continued.

"I would never let any harm come to him, Lois."

"I know."

It was quiet for a moment and I wondered what was going on. Squinting my eyes, I sat very still on my bed as I willed the walls separating me from them to vanish so that I could see what was happening downstairs. I gasped when I saw them.

He had his arms around her, holding her. Her eyes were closed and her hands rested on his arms as if she needed support. It was strange to see them like that in such an intimate pose. They seemed so comfortable, so… at ease like that. Like they fit. And it made me nauseous to see it. Obviously there had once been something between them. I wasn't stupid – I wasn't some naive child who didn't understand the basics of the birds and the bees. Still, I'd never seen them like that – together – with my own eyes. I'm sure he was only trying to comfort her, but nevertheless it was unnerving to see them holding each other as if they were a couple. Dad would be furious if he knew. _I_ was furious, and I very nearly ran down the steps to tell them what I thought when he started talking again.

"Did you punish him already?"

"No," Mom sighed, pulling away from him. "I don't know what to do."

"One of the reasons I came by to talk to you was to persuade you not to punish him too harshly."

That surprised me. If anything, I expected him to give her a suggestion for _how_ to punish me!

"Why?" she asked.

"Because he got this idea from me."

Again, I was very surprised.

"What do you mean?"

"I—" He faltered for a moment. "Those two days that Jason and I spent together, I took him to a farm out west to do the very thing he was doing today."

"You tried to teach him to fly?" Mom pressed.

Superman frowned. "Fly? No. I took him where he could run and push himself to be faster and stronger without the worry of anyone seeing him." He titled his head to the side. "Was he… He was trying to fly today?"

Mom nodded. "I thought you knew. You did see him, right?"

"Yes, I did, but I didn't realize that's what he was trying to do." His face looked very concerned and hard.

"It's only natural for him to be trying this, though," Mom said. "He said he came close, but that it still didn't happen. Do you have any idea how long until he will… fly?"

The frown on his face deepened as his eyes slowly traveled over the walls to where he could look up at me in my room. Our eyes met briefly, and I gasped. Instantly, the connection was broken and the walls were solid once again.

"I don't know if now is the time to answer that, Lois," I heard him say to Mom.

"Why not? Is he listening?"

"Yes."

"Then it's the perfect time. He has a right to know. We shouldn't keep things like this from him anymore."

"But Lois…"

There was something in the way his voice dropped in volume that I didn't like. He was trying to keep something from me, something he didn't want me to know. Something bad. I wasn't sure if I could take any more bad news from him, but at the same time I knew I had to hear this or else I'd go insane thinking about it.

"He will fly, won't he?" Mom asked.

I held my breath as I waited for the answer, but I didn't hear anything. I squinted again and brought the scene downstairs back into focus just in time to see him shaking his head.

No.

Mom covered her mouth with her hand. "But – but this is what he wants. He's – he has to. He's your son."

"Lois—"

"How do you even know?"

"I know," he started softly, "he'll never fly, Lois, because he's too human."

The air around me suddenly became very thick and heavy. My limbs felt as if they weren't attached to my body correctly. My insides lurched and my heart rate became sporadic. I collapsed facedown on my bed as the tremors of rage and hatred shuddered through my soul. With my face buried in my pillow, I somehow managed to stifle the scream that poured out of me.

"Oh, no," I heard Mom sigh. "Are you sure?"

"I've seen him jump. I've seen the way he travels in a perfect parabola up and then down. It's natural. It's within the confines of the natural laws of gravity."

"But the sunlight – he responds to the sunlight!" Mom argued. "Maybe if he spent more time in the sun, he would be strong enough to—"

"No, Lois," he stopped her. "My ability to fly has nothing to do with the way the sun affects me. It's my molecular structure that allows me to fly. Jason's molecular structure is half-human. He's – he can't—"

He didn't have to finish for I knew what he was going to say; I can't ever fly. I won't ever be like him. I will never be anything more than what I am today – and today I was a disappointment. I was awkward and unsure of my abilities. I was not good enough to be labeled a real Kryptonian, let alone as Superman's son. I was nothing more than a messed up alien-human hybrid who was never even supposed to be born!

"This will devastate him," Mom confirmed. "He's wanted this for so long."

"I know," he whispered.

"Do you want to go talk to him?"

I knew he was looking up at me again, trying to decide if he should come up or not.

I made that choice for him by turning my back to him and muttering under my breath, "Go away."

"He wants to be alone," he told Mom.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"But he needs you."

"No, I don't!" I said aloud. "Just leave me alone!"

"He's angry at me, Lois. He doesn't want to see me right now."

"He's had a shock and he needs time," Mom tried to reassure him.

"Just tell him – make sure he knows—"

I didn't hear the rest. I strained my ears for it, but there was nothing. Just a sniff – as if someone were crying.

"He knows," Mom said, and her voice was clear.

It wasn't _Mom_ that was crying.

"I'll see you around, Lois," he said in an unfamiliar voice.

As was his typical fashion, he was gone in the next moment. He flew away. He had that luxury, after all. When things got too rough, he could fly up, up, and away while the rest of us had to stay with our feet on the ground and work out the problems he had created. Because he could have told me about this sooner. I knew for a fact that he hadn't just come up with this idea right here and now. He'd known for some time that I couldn't fly – that I was too _human_.

Right then and there, I decided that if my humanity was going to hold me to the Earth, then I would embrace it as never before. There wasn't anything wrong with being human! The entire planet was made up of humans. Only one being living here wasn't human. He was an alien. He was different. He wasn't even born here. He was the odd one, not me. He was the one that was strange and unusual. Not me. And if he didn't want me, then fine with me! I didn't want _him_. Mom wanted me, and she was human. Dad wanted me, and he was human. Meredith wanted me. Marcus even wanted me around. And they were all human. The only person that didn't seem to want me around was a Kryptonian with a savior complex, and what did his opinion matter!

Well, I'd had it. I was done. If I wasn't Kryptonian enough – if I was too _human_ for his liking, then I didn't need him anymore. I would push aside that part of me that belonged to another planet and focus entirely on my humanity. If Earth wanted me, then I would embrace it fully and totally.

From that night on, my bedroom window stayed locked. When I saw Clark Kent at the Daily Planet, I ignored him. And when I saw Superman flying above me, I looked away from him and kept my gaze focused down at the ground.


	15. Age 16: Into the Fire

_AN: Sometimes chapters that you hadn't planned on writing just kind of pop out of nowhere. This is one of those chapters. I new that the events of this chapter had to happen at some point in the story, I just didn't know they would happen now. As it is, I think it worked rather nicely and ended up being a bit of a surprise to my beta readers… so that's always a plus for me! That being said, readers should know that this chapter is VERY PG-13 for the adult situations._

_Many thanks to htbthomas, the super!beta, Hellish Red Devil, who I now think of as my biggest fan, and sillybella for trying to explain passive voice to me! LOL! You guys all rock and I appreciate you so very much!_

_Thank you to those who reviewed the last chapter: Eva Haley, babyKay47, Moonlight234, john1234, fenice, AgiVega, Maykay13, Eviefan, Prisca-BoggyHillocks, Shadeslayer390, katbaby, queequeg1013, heartnut, ros89, Lisa, xenokattz, elliania, shaanlien, and ellalou73. You made this my highest reviewed chapter since Age 11, which made me a very happy fan fic writer! _

**Age 16 – Into the Fire**

The city looked so beautiful in the evening, the sun just beginning to set behind all the towering buildings. Shadows grew longer as the sky changed colors from blue to orange to red. From my high vantage point, I could just make out the light dancing over the water off on the horizon. The sounds of cars and people rushing home from their jobs littered the streets below. The wind dusted across my face, warm and relaxing. The whole scene should have relaxed me, yet I was as tense as could be.

I had made a deal with myself that I wouldn't talk to him anymore, and I hesitated breaking that deal for any reason. However, this wasn't just any reason anymore. This was something huge – something that could change my life and everything I knew yet once again. It was personal and more than a bit embarrassing, but there wasn't anything I could do about it. I had to know. I had to ask him about it, even if it killed me.

Nobody ever wanted to talk to their parents about this kind of thing, and I whole-heartedly lumped myself in that crowd. I didn't want to talk about this, but I didn't have much of a choice. I considered going to Mom to talk to her about it, but then I recalled something I'd heard her say once – that she didn't know what really happened. She didn't _remember _everything, odd as that sounded. There were flashes of moments, but she couldn't piece them all together. So I was left with only one option; to ask_ him_ about it, and that meant breaking the deal I'd made with myself.

I couldn't go on much longer without knowing. I had thought that I could just ignore the question and try to answer it for myself, but that had gone horribly wrong and left me even more perplexed and worried than before I'd tried. Worse than that, it had frightened Meredith as well. Above all things, I didn't want to hurt her — I never wanted to hurt her. That's why I had to know.

It wasn't just for me that I was waiting on this roof to for him to show up, as I knew he would. It was for Meredith as well. She told me she wanted this. She told me she wanted me to be her first, and so help me, I felt the same way. I was sixteen and she was beautiful. She would kiss me and the world would vanish for a blissful while. Her hands on my skin would turn my brain into mush. And when she pressed against me, hip to hip, I would lose all control. What normal sixteen year old guy wouldn't? My problem was… I wasn't _normal_.

The real cause for my immediate concern happened just two days ago in the basement of Meredith's house. We had simply been watching a DVD, curled up against each other as usual, when the movie went from less of a comedy into more of a romance. The feeling around our bodies instantly became charged with sexual energy. Her hand snaked up my leg. My hand curved over her breast. Our lips met and soon she was writhing beneath me, wrapping her leg around mine, and pulling me close to her. I didn't protest and slid my other hand to her waist so that I could hold her in place against me. I molded her flesh, squeezing a little harder than I intended because I'd lost all ability to think rationally.

She grumbled against my mouth.

I pressed my hips hard against hers.

She winced and gasped.

I tugged on her waist to fit her body more snuggly against mine.

"Ouch!" she cried.

But I kissed her harder.

"Jason! Stop! You're hurting me!"

I broke away from her as if ice had been poured on my body. "Oh, no! I'm sorry!"

She chuckled. "It's okay. I'm anxious, too. I guess you just don't know your own strength."

My blood ran cold at hearing her phrase it like that. She reached for me, but I sat up and faced away from her.

"Jason, it's okay."

"No, it's not okay."

"Yes, it is. Just be a bit more… gentle. I've never done this before."

My eyes closed as I considered that I'd never done this before either and I wasn't exactly sure if I could do it without really hurting her. My hands were pretty strong. My legs were even stronger. I'd have to be very, very careful, and considering that I lost all ability to even form a coherent thought when her body was pressed against mine, I couldn't imagine that I'd be successful in keeping a gentle pace to things.

I stood up and announced that I had to go.

"No, Jason. Please come back."

"Sorry, Meredith. I just… I gotta go."

"Jason, oh come on," she sighed, her voice sounding very sad. "I want this. I want this with _you_."

I grabbed my car keys from the table and headed for the stairs.

"I promise, I won't complain again." She sounded desperate now.

"Meredith, no."

"Just come back, _please_!"

I hadn't seen her since then. I'd been too embarrassed to face her - to admit that I didn't think I could be with her in that way without physically really hurting her. I knew that it was usually painful when it was a girl's first time, but this was different. I'd probably harm her regardless if it was her first or her hundredth time. I wasn't even sure if I could _ever_ do that with _anyone_.

That's why I had to talk to him now. Obviously he and Mom had… well… hadn't they? I was kind of the proof that they had at least once, wasn't I? And since they had… and Mom was still alive and well… then he hadn't really hurt her. Or had he? Is that why she couldn't remember much about that time? Or was I an experiment of sorts? Like some strange Kryptonian test tube baby? Given everything I'd learned the one time I'd been to his ice palace up north, I could very well have been an experiment to see if Jor-El was telling the truth when he said that a human and a Kryptonian couldn't have a child together.

However, as much as I didn't like _him_, I couldn't see him doing anything mean like that to my mom. I wasn't blind to the way he looked at Mom. He loved her; I knew that for certain, regardless of the fact that I would never understand why he left her if he loved her so much. And so it seemed to me that they had been together… intimately, even if the idea made me slightly nauseous to consider. Still, the possibility remained that they just might not have. I needed to know the truth, and the only way to know for certain was to ask him, pointblank.

I came to the _Planet_ after school today on the pretense that I was tired of eating dinner alone and wanted to catch a meal with Mom and Dad for once. They were busy finishing up a story, as usual, and left me on my own for a while. I made a point of catching Clark's eye as I headed to the elevator, and with my own unnatural ability to see through solid object, I watched him as he made some lame excuse to Perry about needing to run an errand.

Once I was up on the roof, I walked to the edge, sat down on the ledge, and waited. Only a few minutes had passed when I felt the familiar and not altogether welcome chill of the air as he flew by, stopping just behind me. It didn't escape my notice that he'd changed into the costume. Couldn't he just do this as Clark? Did he have to rub it in at every instance he could that he was superior to me?

"Hello, Jason," he said solemnly.

I didn't answer him.

"Why are you sitting on the ledge?" he asked quietly.

I wanted to say, "To piss you off," but I held my tongue.

"Are you going to talk to me?"

I shrugged.

"I got the impression that you wanted to talk to me."

Score one for the man in tights. At least he got something right…for once.

"I know you're angry with me."

I huffed. _That_ was the understatement of the century.

"I know we need to talk about what happened and why I—"

"That's not why I came up here," I interrupted.

"It's not?" he sounded surprised.

"Not everything is always about _you_," I sneered.

He flinched slightly. "Fine, but will you please come down from there before you fall and hurt yourself?"

"Fall?" I scoffed. "I know I can't fly, so there's no reason to rub it in."

He didn't say a word in reply. So that left it up to me to go on.

"I wanted to know…" I sighed and took a deep breath. Without looking at him, I let the words stumble out of my mouth in the most incoherent way. "Okay, look, all I need is a yes or a no answer. You don't have to explain anything. I don't need any details. Quite frankly, I really don't want to think about it, but I need to know. And I don't want you bugging me about _why_ I need to know. I just do. It's embarrassing enough as it is to have to ask you this, but I can't go to Mom 'cause she doesn't remember. So, just a yes or a no and we'll leave it at that."

His brows were knit together in confusion. "Okay," he said slowly.

I exhaled sharply, screwing up my courage to ask this highly embarrassing question. My face was already red, but I went forward anyway. Best to make it quick and get it over with. "Did you have sex with Mom?"

My question hung in the air surrounded by stunned silence.

I risked a glance over my shoulder at him. His mouth was hanging open slightly, a look of confusion and astonishment warring for supremacy on his face. It was almost comical.

"Well?" I said.

"I… beg your pardon?" he replied.

I groaned. "Don't make me repeat it."

His mouth opened and then closed and opened again, fish-like. "I just… wasn't expecting…" He blinked and took a step forward. "Why are you asking this?"

"I _told_ you I didn't want to explain it," I grumbled. "I just need a yes or a no answer."

"Well, it's not as simple as that, Jason."

"Oh, good grief," I rolled my eyes and turned my body on the ledge to face him. "Yes, it is that simple. Did you or didn't you? That's all I need to know."

He wet his lips. "Well… Jason… my relationship with Lois was – is – complicated."

"Complicated. Right, I get that." I was growing very frustrated with him. "But did you have sex or what?"

A frown crossed his face. "Or what?" he asked. "What else do you suppose—"

I blurted it out. "I'm not a test tube baby, am I?"

"Oh, Jason," he gasped. "Heavens no! Why would you even think—"

"Well, what else am I supposed to think? You won't give me a straight answer. And Mom doesn't remember it. For all I know you took her up to your little 'Love Shack' of ice and experimented on her."

"Jason, stop it right now," he snapped. "That's not what happened."

"Then what did happen?" I fumed. "Did you or didn't you?"

He paused, staring at me intensely as if deciding how best to explain my unusual existence. Very softly, his voice no more than a whisper, he said, "Of course we made love."

"Good, 'cause that's all I needed to know," I said quickly. Not wanting any more details, I swung my legs over the edge with the intention of climbing down.

"But you need to understand something," he said, coming closer to me.

"No, I don't need to hear anything else," I insisted, standing up. "That's all I came here for."

"Jason, it wasn't what you think." His hand reached out to touch me, and I instinctively drew away from him.

"Don't," I demanded, stepping backwards.

Before I knew what was happening, my leg hit the side of the building and I lost my balance. I tried to catch myself, but I wobbled backwards instead and went right over the side of the ledge. The air left my lungs as I plummeted downwards , but only for a moment. Just as I had predicted, he caught me securely in his arms and floated me back to the roof, where he gingerly released me. The whole incident lasted all of five minutes, but they were five minutes that changed everything. Even though I was unaware of it that would be the last time I would fly with him for almost five years.

I waited for the inevitable "I told you so" that I so richly deserved, but to my surprise, he stayed quiet.

I wasn't like him though – I couldn't stay quiet. "Bet you enjoyed that," I growled.

"Why would I enjoy the possibility of you getting hurt?"

"Because it proves the point that I can't fly. I'll never be able to fly."

He sighed, "Then you do want to talk about it. I wanted to—"

"No, I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to talk to you anymore. I got what I came for and that's enough." I took a step away from him. "Your services are no longer needed."

"Jason—"

"Now, I'm going to go back inside and tell Mom that I was talking to Marcus on the phone and got distracted. That's going to be _my_ story. I'll leave you to decide what_ your_ story will be." I ran back inside the building, ignoring the way his shoulders and head slumped in defeat.

Even though I had my answer – even though I knew it was possible – it still didn't help matters much. I was ever conscious of the way I would touch Meredith and how she would respond. My fear that I would hurt her didn't go away. One look from her – one touch and I was lost to my feelings. Once carnal instinct took over, I wasn't sure I'd be able to be careful enough and keep from holding her too tightly. It was better just to avoid it altogether.

And so, for reasons she would never understand, I started to keep my distance from Meredith. We would still see each other and go out, and I would still kiss her every now and then, but the moment the energy shifted and her body would come into contact with mine, I would pull away. After a month or so of such unusual behavior, Meredith couldn't help but question me about it.

"What's wrong, Jason?" she asked one night after I drove her home from a movie. Her hand had wandered dangerously up my thigh, and I had removed it and placed it back in her lap. "I thought you wanted this as much as I do?"

"Mer, it isn't that I don't want it." GOD no! I really did want it; I just didn't think I would be able to without sending her to the emergency room.

"Then why won't you let me get close anymore?"

I sighed and resorted to my current lame excuse. "I just think we'd be better off waiting."

She shook her head. "Isn't that what I'm supposed to say to you?"

"Maybe," I said with a hard laugh. "I just don't… We don't know what could happen."

"Like what? What could happen?" she challenged.

"I dunno. Anything."

"What exactly are you afraid of, Jason?" she pressed.

I had to come up with something. "Well, what if you got pregnant?" It hadn't even been something that I'd thought about, so the question surprised me as much as it did her.

"We'll be careful," she said, taking my hand.

"Careful," I mocked. "That's what I'm trying to be." I blinked and looked up into her eyes. "Are you on the pill?"

"Are you crazy?" she laughed. "My Mom and Dad would freak out if I asked them for that."

"Well, there you go."

"There are other ways that we could be careful," she insisted.

I ran my hand through my hair. "But nothing's a guarantee. Why are you in such a rush for this, anyway?" I thought that if I could put some of the focus on her it would be easier for me to keep saying no.

"I'm not in a rush," she gaped at me. "I'm just… confused. If I were with any other guy right now, we wouldn't be having this discussion."

"Well, you're not with any other guy. You're with me." I was angry at her for the implication.

"Right, and I can't figure out why you aren't even interested."

"Meaning you could have any guy you wanted, right?" I snapped.

She glared at me. "I have had other boyfriends."

"So, why didn't you sleep with any of them?"

"Would you rather I had?"

"I dunno, Mer. You seem to be awfully focused on having sex with someone that it doesn't sound too far-fetched at this point."

"But I didn't!"

"Why not?"

"Because it didn't feel right!" she said pointedly.

"Well, maybe it doesn't feel right for me with you." I regretted saying it the moment it was out of my mouth.

She inhaled sharply and I could see the wetness swelling in her eyes. "Fine," she muttered after a second, grabbing up her purse and opening the car door. "Fine."

"Meredith—" I called to her.

"Just go home, Jason," she said climbing out of the car.

"Meredith, I didn't mean it like th—"

The door slammed and she darted up to her front door, slipping inside very quickly. I collapsed back against the seat, feeling just awful for saying what I had. Inside her house, I could hear Meredith crying, telling her mother that I had essentially dumped her tonight. I closed my eyes and slid down in my seat, hating myself for lying to her and making her think I didn't want her. The curtain parted and I saw the angry face of Meredith's father. I put the car in gear and drove away from the house like a coward, unable to face the mess I'd made.

When I arrived home, Mom was at her computer in the office and Dad was watching the news. I was fuming with anger at myself, so it was no surprise that Mom noticed how mad I was from the moment I stepped into the house.

"What happened?"

"Nothing," I snapped. I tossed my coat in the closet and started to head up the steps to my room.

"Did something happen with Meredith?" she asked.

"I don't want to talk about it, Mom."

"Jason," she sighed, coming to the foot of the stairs. "Did you have a fight?"

I couldn't look at her. "Something like that."

She frowned. "I'm sorry, honey, but Meredith is a sweet girl. I'm sure you two will work it out."

"Not likely," I mumbled. "We broke up."

"Oh, no. I'm sorry."

"What happened?" Dad asked, coming down the hall.

"Meredith broke up with Jason," Mom explained.

"No," I corrected. "I broke up with her."

Dad looked at me in confusion. "Why? I thought you liked her."

"I do like her! I like her a lot! I just…" I couldn't find the words to express my dilemma. It wasn't something I wanted to discuss with them. Instead, I pushed past them and headed into the kitchen. "Just forget it."

"Jason, we can't just forget it. You're upset," Mom said, following me into the kitchen where she leaned against the counter. Dad joined her a moment later.

"What happened?" he asked again.

I shook my head, embarrassed and feeling completely worthless. "_I_ happened," I said under my breath. "Everything is just a mess right now," I complained, keeping my back to them.

"Everyone feels that way when they are a teenager," Mom offered. "It's normal."

"Normal?" I grumbled. "It's not _normal_, Mom."

"I think what your mother means is that at your age breaking up and feeling badly about it is a normal thing," Dad explained.

"And what I mean is that there is nothing normal about me," I countered. Turning around to face them, I let it all out. "You can go on insisting that things are normal – pretend that everything is fine, but I can't. There is nothing normal about my life because _I_ am _not_ _normal_!" The rage was growing inside of me now, bubbling over.

"It's not normal to be able to hear the conversations going on in the next house!" I said, my voice growing in volume as my anger increased. "It is not normal to be able to see that Mom was working on a story about the up coming election," I fumed, taking a quick peek at her computer through the walls. "It's not normal that I could make it into the city and back in a matter of minutes without breaking a sweat if I had the chance." I circled around and picked up a metal trivet from off the counter. "It is not normal that I can crush things with my bare hands!" As I spoke, the trivet became a mass of tangled metal under the pressure of my hands. "You tell me what is normal about any of that!" I slammed the remains of the trivet down on the counter.

"Honey—" Mom started to take a step closer to me.

"I just want it to stop!" I shouted, pounding my hands down on the stove and leaving dents in the process. "DAMN IT!" I said when I saw the imprints my fists had made. "I _hate_ this!"

The fire inside of me had reached a breaking point – literally. It spilled out of me, hot and fierce, taking me totally by surprise. I could feel the heat and see the flame, but I didn't realize where the fire had started. I looked down at the stove, over the wall, and up to the cabinetry above before I realized that_ I_ was the one causing the fire. It was heat vision, and everything I looked at was catching fire.

"Jason! Stop!" my mother yelled from behind me.

Instantly, I snapped my eyes shut and sank down to the floor in horror at myself. I covered my eyes with my hands, fearful that I might accidentally open them again and set fire to something else, perhaps even burn one of my parents.

The fire alarm went off sending a ringing signal throughout the house that stung my ears. I heard what I interpreted to be a fire extinguisher blowing foam over the burnt area. I could even feel a few specks of the foam as it drifted onto my skin.

"Jason," Dad's voice came from beside me. His hand rested on my shoulder. "Are you all right?"

I wanted to shout at him that I wasn't all right _at all_, but I knew that he was questioning my health and not my emotional stability. "I'm not hurt, if that's what you mean," I mumbled, my voice cracking.

"We should call 911," Dad said.

"We should call for Superman," Mom replied.

"NO!" I shouted.

"Jason—"

"NO! I don't want him here!" I reiterated.

"Honey, you have to have help!"

"There isn't anything he can do, Mom!" I bellowed. "What exactly do you think he can do for me, anyway? He can't take my eyes out of my head. He can't stop me from being a freak!"

"He can help you. He can teach you." She was kneeling beside me now.

"Mom," I sighed. "He's had sixteen years to help me and he never has. What makes you think he'll start now?"

"Oh, Jason," she whispered, her hand stroking my face. "You can't go through life with your eyes covered."

Slowly, I lowered my hands from my eyes and blinked them open. It was a risk, I knew that, but I also knew that Mom would insist on telling Mr. Wonderful if I couldn't control this new ability. I was still angry, but I didn't feel the power of the rage like I had just a moment before. The heat and the energy of the fire weren't there inside me, so I knew it was safe to open my eyes.

"See? I'm fine," I managed to say.

Mom and Dad only frowned uncomfortably at me. Although they tried not to show it, I could see that both of them were afraid to have me look directly at them. I couldn't blame them. It gave new meaning to the saying "if looks could kill."

I stood up and inspected the damage I'd caused. One whole entire wall of the kitchen was destroyed, including the stove.

"I'm sorry," I said remorsefully. "I didn't know I could do that. I didn't mean to."

There was a long moment of silence before my dad said, "It's okay, Jason. We're just glad you aren't hurt."

I looked over my shoulder at my Mom still crouched on the floor and said, "Do you still think I'm normal?"

She stood up. "I think you're special."

I rolled my eyes. "Let's just call it what it is, Mom. I'm part alien." I looked back at the burned kitchen. "It's for things like this that I broke up with Meredith. You can pretend all you want, but I know that I will never have a normal life. That's something I'm just going to have to live with forever."

I heard her take a deep breath.

"Do me a favor," I continued. "Don't tell him about this."

"But Jason—"

"Just don't," I stressed. "I really don't want to talk to him. He doesn't make me feel better. I always walk away feeling worthless and like a total failure. I already feel badly enough. Let's not beat a dead horse."

To my surprise, she pulled me around to face her. "Look at me," she said. When I didn't, she cupped my face in her hands and forced me to look at her. "Look at me." Very evenly, she said, "You are not worthless, so stop talking like that. You had a bad day, and because of your abilities, your bad days end up being ten times worse than they should be for someone your age. But you are not worthless, Jason. You are smart – probably smarter than I am. You are talented. And I love you."

Her arms came around me, and I fell easily into her embrace. "I'm sorry, Mom."

"It's okay," she soothed. "You're going to be fine. I promise I won't say anything to Superman."

Dad clapped a hand on my back to offer his support. I looked up at him and repeated my apology to him as well.

"I ruined the kitchen," I said as we all took in the damage.

"Don't worry about the kitchen," Dad said. "It can all be replaced. Besides, it's not like we didn't know what you were capable of."

"What do you mean?" I frowned. "I didn't know I could do this."

"No, of course not. But you know, it's not like there's a guidebook for how to raise a child with super powers."

Mom and I both slowly turned our heads to glare at him.

"What?" he gaped. "Well, there isn't. It sure would come in handy if there was a 'Dummies Guide for How to Control Your Heat Vision.'"

I snorted. "That would be a short book. Step one – close your eyes."

Beside me, after a long moment of quiet, my mother stifled a laugh.

"Are you laughing at me?" I asked.

She shook her head no… and then yes.

"I don't think it's funny." But even as I said it, I felt the smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. "Hey, I broke up with my girlfriend today. I burnt down the kitchen."

"You're right, it's not funny. Not at all," Mom said, trying to keep a straight face.

It didn't last long.

"I'm sorry," she said, breaking at last. "I was just thinking the other day that I really hated the cabinets in here and how I now have a good excuse to replace them. And then you go and make the comment about keeping your eyes closed. I just found it all funny."

"I don't think burning things with your eyes is something to laugh at," I pointed out, still holding back a smile.

"No. No, you're right, Jason," Dad said. "We should treat this as a very serious matter." He paused and looked around me over to Mom. "I think maybe we should go with a dense wood or even a metal cabinet. Something that doesn't burn as easily."

"You guys," I groaned.

"Okay," Dad smiled. "We'll stop. We were only trying to make you feel better."

"I know," I sighed.

"And look on the bright side," Mom added. "We're going to be ordering take-out and pizza until this place gets fixed."

I couldn't hold it back any longer, and I smiled.

"See, I knew you'd see it our way eventually," Mom said lightly.

"Thanks," I said.

"Hey, we love you, Jason," Dad said, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"I know."

In the end, Meredith and I officially broke up the next Monday at school. We spent the rest of the year avoiding each other. I found out later that she honestly thought I didn't like her. I tired to tell her that wasn't the case, but I don't think she ever believed me. I missed her terribly and considered trying to get back together with her, but by the time I got up the courage she was already dating Will Dennison. I'd probably always think of her as the one that got away.

The damage to the kitchen ended up costing Mom and Dad about three thousand dollars to fix. I helped out by doing a lot of the hard labor that came easy to me, like carrying the old stove out to the dumpster. To my surprise, Mom kept her word and didn't tell Superman about the accident, and that was fine with me. If I had my way, I'd never have to see him ever again. I should have known better though; things never worked out the way I wanted them to.


	16. Age 17 part one: Confronting Clark

_AN: I had intended for this chapter and the next chapter to be all in one, but both sections kind of ran away from me. So we end up with two sections. I bet you can't guess what the title for part two will be! LOL! _

_Thank you to everyone who is still with me even though you know what's coming up, and even though you know it won't be pretty. I do have some nice things in store for Jason, but we won't see much of it until age 19, I'm afraid. I really do appreciate each and every comment and I try to respond to them all, so if you have a question, be sure to ask. I also encourage you to hunt the fic down on LJ – my user name is AlphieLJ – so that you can listen to the music and see the pics as we go. _

_Special thanks to htbthomas who beta read this twice, I do believe! LOL! And Hellish for repeatedly telling me it reads like a movie. That's makes me smile!_

**Age 17 part one: Confronting Clark **

A rainy summer afternoon. I had a few hours to kill before I was supposed to hook up with my friends at the movies. There was some new shoot-'em-down-and-blow-'em-up movie that they all wanted to see. Not my personal favorite, but anything was better than staying in with my parents on a weekend. So as was my current favorite way to pass the time, I plopped down at the piano and began pounding away at a famous ragtime melody.

Scott Joplin was a genius. As much as I loved current music and the hard edge of modern rock, it had nothing on the sound and rhythm of the "Maple Leaf Rag." I'd fallen in love with the piece about a year ago when my teacher suggested it might be fun to learn. She was right; it _was_ fun. It was fast and complicated and exciting, and every time I played it for someone, it brought a smile to their face. When Meredith and I were dating, I'd quickly caught on to the fact that her girlfriends generally loved anything I played, but it took something extra to get any of my guy friends to sit up and take notice of music outside of what was played on the radio. Scott Joplin apparently had that something extra.

I finished the song off with a flourish and then played around with the beginning notes of the last section, slowly altering a chord here and there, testing the sound and the various combinations. I'd never written anything of my own, but I'd come to realize that I was pretty good at manipulating music someone else had composed.

The sound of the doorbell rudely interrupted my tinkering and was followed by the sound of my mother's voice.

"Jason!"

I slumped. "Yeah?"

"Can you get the door, please? I'm on the phone."

For some ominous reason, I pounded out the four opening notes of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony before heading to the door. Casually, I plodded down the hall to the foyer, squinting and adjusting my eyes to get a look at the random salesperson who was probably waiting impatiently outside the door for someone to greet him and not tell him to go away.

I stopped dead in my tracks.

It wasn't a salesperson, but that didn't mean I wouldn't tell the visitor to go away.

On the other side of the door stood one very wet Clark Kent. He offered me a weak smile and raised his hand up to wave at me. I rolled my eyes and turned away.

"Jason?" he said softly.

"What do you want?" I grumbled.

"I'm here to see Lois."

"Jason? Is that Clark?" Mom's voice called out, confirming that he was telling the truth for once. She popped her head around the corner, the phone still pressed to her ear. "Let him in, honey. It's pouring out there."

I heaved a deep breath and reluctantly opened the door. Clark smiled stupidly, as usual, at my mother. "Hi, Lois."

"I'm just finishing up talking with Richard and then I'll be right there." She turned to leave and then spun back around. "Oh, Jason, take Clark's coat and show him into my office. And get him something to drink, will you?" And then she was gone.

I slowly turned my head to look at him. "Is this your idea of a joke?"

"No, not at all. Lois and I had some things to follow up on and she didn't want to go out in the rain, so she asked me if I wouldn't mind coming over here. I don't blame her. It's awful out there." He gave me that cheesy grin of his, and I nearly gagged.

We stared at each other in an uncomfortable silence for at least ten seconds before he said, "It's been a while since I've seen you."

My frown deepened.

"You look taller," he said.

I groaned and rolled my eyes again. "Whatever."

He shifted nervously. "Well, I just…"

"You just…?" I mocked. "Just… just… just…"

He sighed.

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

He closed his eyes. "Please don't make this more difficult than it already is."

"_I_ make things difficult?" I challenged. "You're blaming _me_ for this?"

"No, I'm not blaming you."

"Because I'm not the one who lied to you. I'm not the one who led you to believe something about yourself that wasn't true."

"Jason, please—"

"Please what?" I snapped.

"Please…"

I held my breath, waiting for it. For him to ask me to forgive him. 'Please forgive me' is all he needed to say – all he should have said. I waited for it, but it never came.

Mom came rushing down the hall, immediately putting a halt to any further tortuous conversation. "Sorry about that, Clark. Richard is in Australia and the time difference is a little crazy." She sized up his appearance. "Goodness, Clark. You're dripping wet. Jason, I asked you to take his coat."

She helped him out of his soggy trench coat and handed it to me. "Could you please hang this up to dry?"

I stepped away. "I don't want that mungy thing. I'll get all wet and have to change my clothes and I'm going out later."

"Good grief, Jason, just hang it in the bathroom so it can drip on the tile where it won't hurt anything."

I shot Clark a nasty glance and pinched the coat between my two fingers as if I were touching something potentially dangerous.

"And will you get us something to drink?" Mom asked.

My shoulders fell in obvious dislike of the situation.

"It's okay, Lois. I'm not that thirsty," Clark said quickly.

"Don't be silly. We'll be at this for a while." She looked back at me. "Just grab us a couple bottles of water, okay?"

I shook my head and unwillingly did as she asked. I flung the coat over the door of the bathroom, not caring how mangled it would get in the process of drying. If he wanted a dry coat, he could use his heat vision and have it dry in a matter of seconds, but that would mean Mom possibly finding out his little secret…and he couldn't have that. Oh, no, he could never have _that_. Forcing him to wear a mangled coat was just a drop in the bucket to show him how much I despised this charade he insisted on playing with my mother.

I slowly dragged myself into the kitchen to fetch the water…only to stop when I heard their conversation.

"I'm sorry about Jason," Mom said. "He's seventeen and going through that typical angsty phase that we all go through. He usually not so snippy."

"It's really okay, Lois. I understand. I was just a little surprised at how different he looked… since the last time I saw him."

"Yeah, I guess it has been a while, huh?" she chuckled. "I remember how he used to love playing at your desk. You two used to be real buddies."

"I remember that, too," Clark said sadly.

On impulse, I clenched my fist as tight as I could to keep from screaming at them to shut up. What I wouldn't give to go back in time and tell that naive child to stay away from Clark Kent – that he was a liar and would end up making his life a living hell.

"They grow up so fast," Mom said. "Remember when we used to call him Munchkin?"

They shared a laugh and I felt sick to my stomach. Hearing my mom and my… whatever you wanted to call him… talking about my tortured childhood was enough to make me want to vomit.

"Can't call him that anymore, though," she said. "He's taller than his father now."

I clenched my fists even tighter as I grew angrier, for he and I both knew that I wasn't taller than my _father_. I'd never be taller than my _father_.

"Wow. That's… that's really something," he idiotically stammered.

I couldn't listen to it anymore and I charged angrily into the office. "You know, I_ can_ hear you!"

"Jason!" Mom gasped.

"I would appreciate it if you wouldn't talk about me behind my back."

"We weren't saying anything bad, honey. Clark was only—"

"Clark was only butting in where he's not wanted," I growled.

"Jason!" she gasped again. "I don't know what's gotten into you, young man, but I do _not_ like this tone."

"And I don't like you talking to this jerk about me," I retorted, nodding my head in Clark's direction.

She frowned at me and pulled me out into the hall, giving Clark an apologetic look as she did so. "What have you got against Clark all of a sudden?"

I laughed. "Mom, the list is so long I don't even know where to begin!" He's right on that count. Where _would _he begin?

She shook her head in surprise. "Well, whatever it is, I'm sure it doesn't give you the right to mouth off to him like that."

"Um, yes, in fact, it does."

"No, it doesn't," she countered, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Now, you will go in there and apologize to him for being so rude."

Me? Apologize to him? After everything he'd done to me? No way. It wasn't going to happen. Ever.

"No, I won't," I said matter-of-factly.

Mom gaped at me. "I beg your pardon?"

"I'm not going to apologize to him because I'm not sorry for anything I said."

"You called him a jerk."

"He deserves it!"

"He is a guest in our home and you will treat him with respect."

I scowled. "No, I won't."

"What?"

"I will not treat him with respect, not until he's done something to _earn_ my respect."

"He is our friend!"

"He's _your_ friend, not _mine_. I didn't invite him over here! I don't even like him!" I shouted.

Mom's face was red. "You go in there right now and apologize to him."

"No!"

"Jason, so help me, you do not talk back to me like this!"

"And you can't force me to apologize to someone that I can't stand!"

"You wanna bet?" she said, placing her hands on her hips. "You apologize to him right now or you will not go out with your friends tonight."

"What?" I snapped.

"You heard me."

"That's blackmail!"

She popped a hip. "Maybe so, but I am your mother, and you need to realize that I am the one who sets the rules in this house, not you. You are not an adult yet. I can still ground you."

"Oh, God," I grumbled.

"Now apologize."

I pursed my lips and weighed the options. "No."

"No?"

"No. I'd rather miss the movie than apologize to Clark Kent." He name fell from my lips as if it was something rotten.

Mom was fuming now. "Fine -- then you're grounded."

"Big deal. It's one night," I said flippantly.

"Oh, no, Jason, you're grounded for a _week_."

"A week!" I gasped. "For what?"

"For your attitude, for your behavior tonight, for yelling at me, for being disrespectful. The list goes on and on, Jason."

"This is not fair!" I shouted. "This is totally not fair!"

"And if your father were here, he'd probably make it two weeks."

At that very moment, I caught sight of Clark standing in the doorway to the office, looking pale. Mom's words hung in the air. _If your father were here…_ I laughed coldly at the irony of the situation.

"I don't think this is the least bit funny, young man," Mom snipped, crossing her arms in front of herself.

I buried my face in my hands and mumbled, "That's because you're completely clueless."

"What?"

"Nothing," I replied, before looking at Clark over my shoulder. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

His mouth opened and closed. I was about to start calling him Mr. Fish, he did that so often.

Mom glared at me. "You are _really_ pushing it now. I am really angry with you, Jason."

"Well, I'm not too happy with you, either," I agreed lightly.

"That's it," she said coolly. "Two weeks."

"Oh, come on," I growled.

"Keep at it and we'll make it three."

"I didn't do anything!"

"That's right. You didn't apologize."

"I am not going to apologize to Clark _frickin_' Kent!" I bellowed.

"Then it's three weeks."

I gaped at her, completely stunned that this was even happening. "This is not fair, Mom. This is _not_ fair! I can't even believe this! Three weeks? You're gonna ground me for three weeks because I don't like some idiot you've forced into my life?"

"No, I am grounding you for three weeks because you are hot-headed, disrespectful, and you need to learn some manners."

I was raging mad and could no longer hold it in. "This is total bullshit, Mom! Bullshit!"

"_Jason_!"

Mom and I both snapped around at the authoritative sound of the deep, masculine voice to momentarily find Clark scowling at me. Realizing that he'd nearly given himself away, he shifted nervously and adjusted his glasses. "Sorry," he offered, using his traditional, squeaky Clark voice again. "I just don't think… um… that you should be… well… that you should talk to your mother like that."

"Thank you, Clark," Mom said quietly.

I slowly looked from one face to the other, feeling more and more enraged as the moments passed.

"You don't have to apologize to me, Jason," Clark offered, "but I think you should at least apologize to your mother."

"Excuse me?" I sneered at him. "_You_ don't tell me what to do. Who do you think you are?" My eyes held fast to his as I went in for the kill. "You're not my _father_."

What little smile there was left on his face vanished completely. I waited for him to contradict me, to point out that he was my father and had every right to speak like that to me. If he wanted my respect, then he should end this stupid charade right now and admit to Mom and to me exactly who he was. I dared him to say it, holding onto his gaze with a fierce intensity. I wasn't going to be the first to look away. I scowled at him until his eyes shifted downwards, admitting defeat. Coward.

"No, he's not your father," Mom stated unknowingly. "However, he is right. You _do_ owe me an apology and I _will_ get it. But right now, you need to go up to your room and cool off for a while. Clark and I have some work to do, and when we are finished I will come up and talk to you. I don't want to see you before then."

"Fine," I spat before darting up the steps.

"No phone, no TV, no computer, no games!" Mom called after me.

I slammed the door to my room, anger boiling up inside of me, threatening to spill over. Below me, I could still hear them talking.

"I'm sorry about that, Clark."

"It's all right, Lois," he replied, sounding a bit shaken. He cleared his throat and said, "I was seventeen once. I know a thing or two about what he's going through."

I wanted to hit something, I was so livid. Yet instead of a punch, I felt the heat of my blood rise and an odd pressure settle behind my eyes. Immediately, I shut my eyes tight, knowing that if I were to open them now, I'd probably set the house on fire given the aggression I felt at that moment.

I stayed in my room that whole evening doing absolutely nothing. When Clark finally left, about three hours after the confrontation, I watched him as he came around the back of the house and looked up at me in my room, silently requesting the opportunity to talk about what had happened. I slowly shook my head at him.

"Jason?" I heard him say.

In a voice no more than a whisper I said, "Go. Away."

And he did.

I stayed in my room for a few days after that. The only time I left the house was for piano practice, and the only time I came out of my room to play the piano was when Mom was at work. I kept to myself as much as I could, even eating up in my room. When Dad came back home, he thought he could make me see reason, and even offered to lessen my sentence if I would agree to apologize to Clark. Naturally, I told him to forget it, which meant I had to endure a full three weeks of being grounded all because I thought Clark Kent was a jerk.

Clark Kent was nothing to me but a royal pain in the backside. I couldn't stand what he'd done to my life – the mess he'd made. I hated the lies and deception he'd convinced me to participate in nearly all my life. But what was I supposed to do about it? Tell Mom? Like she'd believe me. And then I risked her being angry at _me _for not telling her sooner. I wasn't about to suffer through any more unnecessary punishment for something that, once again, wasn't my fault.

So the secret stayed, and my anger grew. I took my aggression out on my piano, tackling for the first time in my life a Rachmaninoff piece – the Prelude in C-sharp minor. It was the perfect piece to show off how I was feeling. The perfect prelude for what was to come.


	17. Age 17 part two: Confronting Superman

_AN: In chapter nine of "In the Shadow of my Father" Clark has this line:_

"_When you said you never wanted to see me again…that you hated me…I never thought you would ever say anything to me that could hurt more than that."_

_Ladies (and the few gents that are here) I now present to you THAT moment. And be warned, it's not nice at all. It's very bad and loaded with angst and anger and pain. As Hellish red Devil said in her beta, "Not only is he a naturally embittered young man when it comes to his "real" father, but he had one seriously bad day--and, let's not forget, he's a teenager. NEVER A GOOD COMBO." _

_The other warning I need to place on this chapter is that of adult content. Jason gets into a rather interesting er… position in this chapter, which starts the fight that leads to the breakdown that ends this chapter. Now you are doubly warned._

_But hey, in spite of all that, thanks for sticking with me! LOL! Seriously. You have no idea how surprised I am that so many of you have come along for this horribly angsty ride. I know that you're all here for the promised pay off, right? The moment when Jason saves Superman maybe? It's coming. It will happen. There is happiness in store for them. I promise. And thanks to htbthomas and Hellish for the beat. You both rock my would. 4, 645_

**Age 17: Confronting Superman**

The most humiliating and helpless feeling a high school student can experience is sitting outside of the principal's office while your mother is inside getting the lowdown on the horrible thing you did that earned you three days of in-school suspension. Add to that the stares and whispers of the remaining students and you've got yourself one heck of an awful day. I'd seen it happen a few times before – to other kids. But today, I was the one with the misfortune of being in the hot seat. And to top it all off, technically speaking, I hadn't _really _done anything wrong.

"Did you see what happened?"

"Who would have thought he could take out Collin."

"I heard he slept with Tiffani."

"Big deal. Who hasn't?"

"I heard Collin's in intensive care."

"I heard he might die."

"White doesn't even look like he has a scratch on him."

"Collin deserved it."

"He hit Jason first."

"It was cool. More people should fight in school."

"Do you think he'll be suspended?"

"I've never seen anything like it!"

"I can't believe he… Did he really sleep with her? I mean, are you sure?"

That last voice broke through all the other random voices the strongest. It was Meredith's voice. And I could hear the hurt behind her question. I looked around for her in vain, hoping to find her and explain that it wasn't what it looked like. Nothing like that had happened. Well, not _nothing_, but I didn't do _that_.

Her hip had bumped into mine while we were dancing around at Noah's party Friday night. That's how it had started. I didn't even do it on purpose. Everyone knew that Tiffani Kaye, spelled with an "I," as she endlessly reminded people in a useless effort to make her sound more classy or interesting or something, was the type of girl whose reputation was based on the fact that if you so much as showed an interest in doing anything slightly physical with her, she would gladly accommodate your needs. So when our hips touched, she instantly turned to look me over, size me up, and smile at me in that way that would make any guy stop in their tracks.

"Jason White!" she said over the loud music. "Just the kind of man I was looking for."

I'm sure any man's name could have been substituted for mine at that moment, but I had been caught. Her hands brushed up my chest and came to rest on my shoulders.

"Dance with me?"

"Um… I guess." What was I supposed to say? _No thanks, you're too easy?_

Her body snuggled up against mine as she started wiggling back and forth, to and fro and back again, like some crazed jackrabbit. She played with the hair at the nape of my neck. She looked up at me with those dark brown eyes of hers, flirting madly and smiling as innocently as she could.

Rising up on her tiptoes, she breathed into my ear and said, "You are hot, do you know that?" Purposefully, she slid back down to the floor, making sure to create an intimate friction between our bodies as she did so.

I was speechless. I didn't really like this girl, but there are certain things that a guy just can't control. The current physical state of my body was proof of that.

"I bet you have a great body," she observed, running her hands over my chest and again pressing her hips against mine. "Come with me," she ordered, grabbing my hand and pulling me around the corner and up the stairs.

It took the full journey up the steps for my mind to start functioning on all four cylinders again. "Wait," I said. "Where are we going?"

She smiled and bit her bottom lip, dragging me into one of the bedrooms. "In here."

I opened my mouth to complain but found that impossible once her mouth covered mine. She kissed me fully, deeply, with no indication that this was a first kiss. It'd taken Meredith and me weeks to work up to kissing like this. Yet here I was now with this girl I hardly knew and didn't even like, kissing her like I've never kissed anyone before.

She shoved me backwards and I tumbled down on the bed, surprised and completely flabbergasted that this was happening. The next thing I knew she was straddling me, kissing me, pulling her shirt over her head. I'd seen girls in bikini tops before, but there is just something very different about seeing a real, honest-to-goodness bra. My mind went blank as I felt how she rubbed and pressed against me.

"I always thought you were hot," she mumbled, biting at my ear and working her hands under my shirt to feel my skin. My eyes closed and I moaned in pleasure. I couldn't help it. She knew exactly what she was doing to me.

"You're a big boy, Jason," she mumbled against my mouth. "And I'm anxious to know just how big you really are."

I groaned as her hand made its way down to my groin. There was no hesitation to the way she explored my lower body. Expertly, she undid the snap on my jeans and slowly slid the zipper down. I was lost in a total pre-orgasmic experience that most guys my age only dream of. The way it felt left me arching upwards in an unspoken request for more. It was amazing. No one had ever touched me like that before – not even Meredith. I had wanted her to, and I was more than willing, I just was too afraid. I cared about Meredith too much to risk hurting her in any way.

Something snapped in my brain. What I was feeling was nothing outside of the physical. I didn't have any emotional connection at all to this half-naked girl on top of me. I thought she was a bit trampy, in fact, and yet I was letting her do things with me that I wouldn't even do with the girl I cared about most.

It took all my willpower to do it, but I somehow managed to start thinking with my brain again. I grabbed her hand and pulled my mouth away from hers. "No, stop it. We shouldn't do this."

She giggled. "Why not? Doesn't it feel good?" She squeezed her hand in demonstration.

I groaned. "Yes, but…"

"I know you want this. I want this. So let's just get it over with."

Get it over with? Had she really just said that? I forced my brain to take control of my body and wiggled out from under her. "I can't. I just can't. This isn't right."

She huffed. "What do you mean you can't?"

"I can't just…" I pulled my pants up and zipped them closed. "I don't even know you, Tiffani."

She laughed. "Yeah, you do. You just said I'm Tiffani. So long as you know it's with an 'I,' what else is there?"

I gaped at her. "There's a lot more."

"Oh, God," she growled, rolling her eyes. "You're not one of those wishy-washy types are you? Come on. I just want a good screw."

I was completely disgusted. "Well, I don't," I said in all honesty. "At least not with you."

That's how it happened. That's how it ended. I left the party feeling a bit shocked at myself for being so moral. I felt I'd done something decent, something I should be applauded for. I had a half-naked girl on my lap offering me sex, and I said no on the grounds that I didn't want my first sexual experience to be with someone I would never even say hello to in passing. I didn't tell Mom or Dad about it, though. I didn't dare. They might not see things as morally as I did. So the weekend progressed and I went to school Monday morning thinking nothing of it anymore.

That was a mistake.

I somehow missed the memo stating that Collin Morrison felt like he had dibs on Tiffani Kaye. Given that there were a handful of guys in the school who felt that way about her, too, it really shouldn't have mattered. But I guess it mattered to Collin.

He came bounding up to me while I was talking to Marcus at my locker, his face bright red, and he shoved me – hard. Hard enough for me to actually fall back into the lockers. Hard enough for me to feel it. And that's saying something, given that I normally have to pretend to feel it when someone hits me.

"Tiffani told me what you did," he lashed out. "And you are about to pay."

"What I did?" I said, getting my balance. "I didn't do anything."

"She said you called her a whore!" He shoved me again.

"I did not," I said, my anger growing.

"She said you banged her real good, and when you were done you said, 'Thanks for the screw, you whore.'"

I gaped at him. "That never happened!"

"You slept with Tiffani Kaye?" Marcus asked, completely flabbergasted.

"NO!"

"Wow," he sighed.

"I didn't sleep with her!" I insisted.

"Tiffani tells a different story, and now you're gonna pay for it," Collin warned.

He took a swing at me with one of his giant fists. Instinctively, I ducked and spun out of the way. His fist hadn't even come close to touching me, I was so fast.

Collin's eyes were wide in wonder. "How'd you do that?"

My breath hitched. I'd nearly given myself away. "Collin," I said, trying to draw attention away from what happened, "You don't want to fight me, okay. I'm a lot tougher than I look."

He snorted and before I could react, his fist pounded into my stomach. I let out a small "ohh" as some air left my body, but it was Collin who screeched in pain.

"Holy shit, I think you broke my hand!"

I held up my hands in a surrender gesture. "Collin, really. I didn't call her a whore and I certainly didn't sleep with her. You don't want to do this."

His face contorted and I could see the rage building inside of him. With his good hand, he took another swing at me. I turned quickly, and he somehow managed to follow me around and attempt another punch. I ducked just in time.

The group of students around us were yelling and calling out our names randomly – some rooting for him, some rooting for me. I looked up at him seriously, pleadingly. "Collin, you need to stop this."

"I need to teach you a lesson!" With his two hands together in what I'm sure was a painful grasp, he pummeled his fists down towards my head. I slid out of the way again, spun around, and came to a stop behind him.

"You think you're something, don't you?" he sneered. "All you're doing is drawing it out. Now stand still so we can get this over with."

"Funny, that's what Tiffani said to me the other night." It was a stupid thing to say, but it came out of my mouth before I could stop myself.

Collin growled and then roared and charged full force at me. I knew he wouldn't give up. I knew he wasn't going to stop. The only way to put an end to it was if I stopped him myself. And so, in that instant, with him heading right for me and me having no one around to ask for guidance but myself, I made what was quite possibly the worst decision of my life.

I hit him.

I hit him harder than I intended to.

He fell backwards, moaning in agony and holding his side in pain. His howling drew the attention of some teachers, and before I knew it, fingers were being pointed at me as accusations flew left and right. I couldn't answer any of their questions. I could only stand there in amazement – in horror – at what I'd done. What I was capable of.

I didn't argue when they called me to the principal's office. I didn't put up a fight when they called Mom. I just sat and waited for the whole thing to pass before me. What could I say, anyway? _I'm sorry? I have superpowers and can't control my own strength?_

As I sat and waited for Mom to work out my punishment with the administration, I couldn't help but think how great everything had been up until now. My grades were great, I scored well on my college placement tests, and I even managed a date here and there. Nothing serious, but that was fine with me. I'd gone nearly a full six months without so much as a warning from my parents about anything. It'd been an easygoing year, smooth and relatively uneventful thus far. I had a major recital to prepare for as well as study for my finals, but other than that, the only thing giving me stress was the idea of finding someone to ask out to the annual Holiday Festival. I should have known better than to relax and think that life could continue like this for much longer. It's Murphy's Law that the moment you think things are good, the rug will be pulled out from under you when you least expect it.

The door to the office opened and Mom came out to collect me. I followed her to the car, not daring to talk because I hadn't thought up exactly what I was supposed to say. It wasn't until we were a good distance from school before I found the courage to actually speak up. Even then, "I'm sorry, Mom," was all I had come up with.

"I'm sorry, too, Jason. I hope you haven't ruined your chances of getting into a good school because of this."

I had been thinking the same thing.

"I can't believe it," she said softly, angrily. "I don't know what I'm more upset about – the hitting, or the idea of you making out with some girl at a party."

My head snapped around to look at her. "I didn't do anything."

"That's not what I was told."

"I swear, Mom, I didn't do anything with her. I told her no."

"Then why were you fighting over her?"

"Because she told Collin that we did, but I swear, Mom, we didn't!"

"Why would she say you did if you didn't?"

"I don't know, Mom. She's…" I wanted to say that she was trampy, but I didn't think using language like that would make Mom feel any better. "She's one of _those_ girls, you know?"

She eyed me, doubting my story. I knew I'd have to give her more proof than that for her to believe me.

"Okay, listen, I've never… done anything… like _that_. Not even with Meredith, okay?" My face felt hot under the humiliation of the moment.

She took in the information silently, breathing slowly, deeply, before she asked, "Then why did you hit him?"

"He hit me first, Mom."

"But you didn't have to hit him back."

"Yes, I did."

She shot me an angry look.

"He hit me and hurt his hand first off, which only pissed him off more. So what was I supposed to do? Stand there and let him hit me and prove to everyone that I'm not normal? Because if I hadn't hit him right then, he would have kept going. He wasn't going to stop until he was satisfied. So the way I see it, I did him a favor."

"A favor!" she snapped. "Jason, he has two broken ribs and several broken fingers!"

"He could have had a lot more broken if I hadn't stopped him!"

She grumbled something and shook her head. "I don't know what to do."

"How long is my suspension?" I asked quietly.

"Three days," she said sadly.

"I'm going to miss a couple really big tests."

"There go your grades."

"I'll make it up."

She glanced at me again, still upset. "I'm not sure how to punish you for this."

"Isn't this punishment enough?"

She shook her head. "I'm going to have to talk to your father. I asked him to meet us at the house."

Great. Just great. I was hoping she would understand. There wasn't anything I could do to change the school policy, but I didn't think she'd be too hard on me once she understood what really happened. Dad had sailed through school, like Mom, and was more of a stickler about my grades than she was. He was sure to ground me until I graduated.

We pulled up to the house and Mom led the way inside. "He said he'd be out back," she said, dropping her bag on the hall table and walking to the patio door.

For a moment, it crossed my mind that it was odd how Dad would be waiting for us out back. Why not do this in the office? Why not send me to my room? But once Mom slid the patio door open, I realized fully what she meant when she said she was going to talk to my _father_.

"You have got to be kidding me," I bit out as soon as I saw him. "As if my day hasn't been bad enough, you go and invite him over here!"

Ever since my little blow-up last summer in front of Mom, he had kept his distance from me. He had stopped spying on me– at least I hadn't caught him spying like I normally did. I figured he'd finally taken the hint that I didn't want to deal with him anymore. Mom and Dad had mentioned a few times that I hadn't had much contact with him in a while. They were oblivious to the contact I'd had with _Clark,_ of course. But they hadn't forced me to see him and I was doing—had been doing-- fine without him. It incensed me beyond reason that Mom invited him here now, and even more that he came!

"Jason!" Mom scolded. "He is the only one who understands what this is like for you."

"Like hell he does."

"You watch your language," she said, pointing a finger at me. "Now, let's talk about this and try to work something out."

"I'm not talking to him."

"I don't think you're in much of a position to talk back today, young man. Now come out here right now."

I held my ground. "No."

"What?" she said.

"I said no. I don't want to talk to him, now or ever again."

He took a step forward, his face still calm and collected. "Jason, I think what your mother wants is—"

"Why are you even here?" I interrupted, walking forward to come face-to-face with him, bypassing my stunned mother.

"Because Lois asked me here. She told me you got in some trouble at school."

"And you thought you had to come in and clean up my mess, right?"

He frowned. "No."

"Yes," I countered. "Because that's all you ever do. You stay away from me long enough to make sure I've had time to royally screw things up. You wait for everything to go to hell so Mom will call you for help and you can swoop in and save the day and be the hero. But I know better! You aren't _my_ hero."

"Jason, stop it," Mom said from behind me.

"No, I will not stop it, Mom. Not until he understands that I don't want him around me anymore."

I looked him directly in the eyes, which was more easily accomplished now than ever before, given my height. "I'm sick of it. I'm sick of _you_. I'm sick of the fact that you only take an interest in me when I do something wrong. That you only try to act like a parent when it's convenient for you. That you feel you have to clean up after me just so that no one will ever learn about your precious little secret."

I spared a glance at Mom over my shoulder to see her worried face and then focused back on the man in front of me, purposeful.

"I'll make a promise to you that I will never tell her."

"Tell me what?" Mom asked.

His eyes darted to Mom and then back to me wordlessly.

"I promise that I won't tell anyone anything," I continued. "And I'm not doing it for you; I'm doing it for me, because honestly, I don't want to be connected to you anymore, not in any way, shape, or form. So, your secret is safe with me. But in return…" I inched forward, my anger making me feel bold. "You have to go away."

"What do you mean?" he asked solemnly.

"I mean I don't ever want to see you again. Ever. "

I could hear his heart rate increase.

"You don't mean that, Jason," Mom whispered.

"Oh, yes I do." I held on to his gaze as I spoke. "I don't need you coming around, making me feel inferior. I don't need you to clean up after me if I make a mistake. That's what my mom and dad are here for. You're just an unwanted third wheel."

I had to give him credit for not looking away from me. But I could still hear his heart racing. And now I could tell that his breathing wasn't exactly normal, either. "I can't just walk away from you, Jason," he said in an unnaturally shaky voice.

"Yes, you can. You've been doing it my whole life. Only difference is that this time I'm giving you permission to do it."

We looked at each other in uncomfortable silence for a few moments.

"I told you to leave," I reminded him.

"I heard you," he said.

"Then why haven't you left?"

He swallowed hard. "Don't ask this of me, Jason. I can't leave—"

"I have done everything you have ever asked of me." I said softly but fiercely. "I have put up with so much crap from you over the years, and you know it! Every day of my life I have to pretend to be something that I'm not, and I'm tired of it. I can't live like you. I refuse to. All I ask is that you leave me alone and let me try to live a normal life for once, free from you."

"Jason," Mom gasped, placing a hand on my shoulder. "I know you're upset over what happened today, but you don't know what you're saying."

I turned to face her. "Yeah, I'm upset. I'm upset because this isn't my fault. None of it. I didn't sleep with that girl and I didn't start that fight. Most importantly, I can't help the fact that I was born the way I am. So I do know what I'm saying, and I should have said it a long time ago, because I hate him." I turned to look at him again and repeated my statement. "I hate you."

"You don't hate him," Mom said, her eyes wet with unshed tears. "He's your father."

"He's not my father," I said, still looking at him with disgust. "He's more like… a sperm donor."

Mom inhaled sharply and stepped away from me shakily, her hand covering her mouth. The tears that she had been holding in till now fell down her cheeks. "I can't believe you just said that."

I could see the hurt in her face and was sorry for having said it. Not that it wasn't true, but I still shouldn't have said it out loud…at least not in her presence. I felt guilty and looked over to_ him_ to find him glaring at _me_ now.

"You will apologize to your mother for that," he demanded.

As guilty as I felt – as much as I knew I should apologize – I couldn't give him the satisfaction of having that power over me. "Why should I apologize for something that is _not my fault_?" I emphasized the last words pointedly. "You think I wanted to be born like this? You think I wanted to be half-alien, half-human? Well, I didn't. So your daddy was right, _Superman_," I sneered. "Now's your chance to fly up there and tell Jor-El that he was right. That a Kryptonian-human hybrid is just as abnormal as he said I would be."

He shook his head, looking very dissatisfied with me. "Jason, you never understood—"

"I don't care," I snapped. "I don't want to listen to your so-called explanations. I'm done with it – done with _you_. So just do me a favor for once and leave me the hell alone."

He stood still.

And I blew up. "What part of 'GO AWAY!' don't you understand?"

Mom sniffed.

He took a step back. "All right, Jason." His hands went up in surrender. "You win. I'll go. I won't bother you again unless I'm asked."

"Which will never happen," I added.

He stared at me, and I suddenly felt chilled at the sight of his eyes. They were wet. Like he might cry at any moment.

But _my_ eyes were dry for once. Like he said, I had won. And I silently vowed that I'd never shed another tear over him ever again. Like _I_ said, I was done with him. I meant every word.

He raised his arms as if preparing himself to fly away, only to drop them and look at me once more. He licked his lips, and I heard his heart race faster. "I never told you—"

"GO!" I shouted. "JUST GO!"

With one last glance at my mother as if to say he was sorry, he lifted off the ground and flew away.

My eyes were instantly drawn to my mother, who was still silently crying. "I hope you're finally satisfied," she said bitterly before heading back into the house.

It's what I had asked for. It's what I had _wanted_. But now that I had it, I felt horrible. Even worse was the fact that I didn't receive any real punishment from my parents. They didn't tell me I was grounded. They didn't prohibit me from going out with friends or using the computer. Not one thing was said to me about it after that moment on the patio. Only glances. Only sad looks. The guilt trip worked, for I took it upon myself to punish me. I stayed in my room by choice. I worked like mad on schoolwork, making sure I had an A on every assignment from that point until I graduated in a futile attempt to make up for what had happened that day.

But the damage had been done. My relationship with my mom would never really be the same again. I'd said things that I shouldn't have said, and now she knew that there was some secret I was keeping from her about him. Dad's anger at me for my behavior went unspoken, but that didn't mean I couldn't feel it. Tension was tight for a while, and I knew it was truly my fault this time.

But I got what I wanted. He stayed away. He didn't fly over the house at Christmas to check on me. He didn't come around for my eighteenth birthday. He didn't even watch, as far as I could tell, when I graduated in the top ten percent of my class. I wondered if he knew what school I was going to – what dorm I was staying in. I shouldn't have wondered, but I did. I got exactly what I asked for, and in doing so I realized it wasn't what I really wanted at all. But I'd never admit that to anyone.


	18. Age 18: Being Human

_AN: If you've read chapter seven of ItSomF then you know what this chapter is all about. If you haven't read that, then this might be a surprise. Needless to say, I've had this scene in my head for a LONG time. I also want to say that those of you who were angry at Jason's behavior in the last chapter were very right. He is behaving like a spoiled child. That's kind of my point here. I'm not saying it's right, I'm just showing what might happen in this situation. But I do believe in happy endings, so it will all work out in the end. Along those same lines, this will be the last of the overly tragic chapters! YEAH! I have to switch gears for the love story that happens next and then I will be caught up to the event of ItSomF. So, there is light at the end of the tunnel. I did warn all of you that it was going to get VERY, VERY bad before it got better._

_Thanks to Hellish who beta'd this one solo. htbthomas is SWAMPED, and so I might fix a few correction in a day or two when she does get a chance to read it. But I still appreciate her efforts to cheer me on!_

**Age 18 – Being Human**

"Remind me again why we signed up for this class?" Lance asked with a groan.

"Because we had to."

"I hate geology."

I'd heard that from him about a dozen times. "We picked it because it was the only one that didn't start at eight in the morning. You like to sleep in, right?"

"Right."

"So, we take geology."

Lance Harper wasn't the most intelligent guy I'd ever met, but he sure was fun. How we ever ended up as roommates is beyond my comprehension, we were so opposite from each other, but it was working out pretty well so far. I helped him with his general studies classes and he hooked me up with a few nice girls at parties and such. Lance always knew where the good parties were.

He was a health and fitness major who came to the school on a soccer scholarship. When he wasn't in class or at a party, he was kicking a ball against a wall or running the track or at the gym lifting weights. He wasn't a tall guy by any means, but what he lacked in height he made up for in personality. I liked him right from the start, and we became good friends through our first semester at Metropolis University. I even went to the gym with him a few times to run the track or spot him as he lifted. And I almost always let him win.

We made a good team at parties, too. He found the girls and I was the safe ride home. Given the fact that alcohol seemed to have little to no effect on my alien body, I was always the designated driver. Of course, I always said that I'd had only one or two beers. Truth was, I could drink a keg and feel only slightly tipsy. It was one of the benefits to having this inhuman body.

For the most part, I tried to ignore what I could do and who I was. I tried to live as normally as possible. After all, that's what I had asked for. But I found it more difficult than I had expected. I was and would always be part Kryptonian, no matter what I did. My only hope was that no one would ever find out. I'd put up this charade in public for all my life, finding the chance to relax a little at home. But now that I lived every day, every moment, with people who hadn't any clue what I could really do, I found it next to impossible to keep it up all the time. I knew it was only a matter of time before I slipped and did something so inhuman that someone would take notice. Lance wasn't book smart, but he wasn't stupid, either. Sooner or later, he was bound to catch me moving too quickly or hearing something I shouldn't be able to hear.

"Why do people study this stuff, anyway?" he asked as we headed into our classroom.

"Geology?"

"Yeah. Rocks. I mean, they're _rocks_. They don't do anything. What's the point?"

"Well, you can't build anything until you know the properties of the building materials. Different rocks serve different purposes." I considered putting it in terms he would better understand. "Kind of like – you don't want the smallest guy on the team to be the goalie."

"Oh." He smiled and nodded. "Cool." Typical Lance.

We entered the classroom and Lance was instantly drawn to the three attractive girls sitting near the back. He didn't even bother to make sure I was following him. He just eased up to them, sat right down, and introduced himself. It was obvious that at least one of the girls liked his approach. Now, if only _I _could be that smooth. Regrettably, it seemed that starting up a conversation with a pretty girl was not, and would never be, one of my strengths.

I waved at them when Lance pointed me out and slid, red-faced, into the seat next to him. My stomach did an unusual flip-flop.

"Marcy says she and her friends are having a party this weekend at their apartment complex."

I squinted at him. "Who's Marcy?"

He thumbed over his right shoulder. "Brunette."

"Oh. Um."

Lance smiled brightly. "We are _so_ going. If her other friends look anything like these friends - dude - we could be in for some real fun."

I felt a bit queasy at the thought of that for some reason. It didn't settle well with me, and I couldn't figure out why. Lance went back to flirting with the girls and I settled back in my seat, perplexed at the uneasy feeling slowly spreading throughout my body.

The professor came into the room and started handing out the syllabi. I took one and tried to read what it said. My stomach twisted. And my body began to ache.

"Welcome to Geology 101. I am Professor Colburn," the instructor said. His voice sounded oddly distant. It rattled my ears.

My head pounded as the teacher continued his introduction. I rubbed my eyes and pinched my nose, confused and dazed by what I was suddenly feeling.

"Jase?" Lance said. "You okay, bro?"

"Yeah," I lied. "I just… have a headache."

I hadn't had a headache in a long time. In fact, I hadn't felt _sick_ in years. I still had a few issues with my breathing and asthma, but nothing serious, nothing that required me to use an inhaler anymore. But actually being sick had almost become a foreign concept to me. The sunlight made sure of that. The last time I was ever really, truly sick was…

My heart skipped and I suddenly felt chilled. I looked up at the teacher, prattling on about his love of the universe and all things mineral. On his desk sat several unusual rocks that he was going to let us examine as an introductory demonstration. I looked to my left and for the first time noticed several large, glass cabinets filled with more rocks similar to the ones on his desk. Naturally, a geologist would be a rock collector.

My eyes skimmed over the collection, looking for the one rock I was certain was the cause of my sudden illness. What else could it be? Only one thing could made me feel this weak. There – sitting smack dab in the middle of the top shelf in the cabinet directly across from me – was a green chunk of rock the size of a watermelon, but not as round, and certainly not as smooth.

Kryptonite.

_Damn. _

I blinked once and slowly turned back around in my chair and closed my eyes in submission. As best as I could, I tried to think my way out of the situation. So the professor had Kryptonite. So what? I knew it wasn't going to kill me, just make me sick. I'd have to switch classes, which would be a real bother considering how difficult it had been to talk Lance into it, and given that he was probably attached to a few girls in the class now, he wouldn't want to leave. But I would have to. I'd just have to make it through this class and then I'd feel better.

I kept reminding myself that it wouldn't kill me. With each minute that ticked by I repeated the phrase. _It will not kill me. Only forty more minutes to go. It will not kill me. Only thirty-nine more minutes to go. It will not kill me_.

Lance elbowed me, "Dude, you look really sick."

"I am sick," I admitted.

"Are you gonna barf? Cause if you are—"

"I'm not gonna barf."

"You're pale, Jase," he observed. "Like, you're turning green."

I rolled my eyes. "Thanks for the reminder."

I glanced at the clock to see that I still had thirty-six minutes to go. My stomach churned. My head reeled. My body ached. My heart raced. My vision blurred.

_It will not kill me. Only thirty-five minutes to go. _

"Excuse me, are you feeling all right?" the professor asked, looking down at me.

"He's really sick, sir," Lance spoke up for me. "I think he's gonna barf."

"Maybe you should head out. Try to get some fresh air. Splash some water on your face"

I nodded, grateful for the professor's kindness and flexibility given the situation. I slipped on my coat and grabbed at my backpack, founding it nearly too heavy to lift. I used all my force to heave it up over my shoulder as I stumbled out of the classroom. I meandered through the hallway, heading right for the door, knowing deep down that it wasn't fresh air I needed, but rather sunlight. I hated to admit it, but what I craved more than anything in that moment was the sunlight.

I pushed open the door to the commons and was met with cold, wet air. I looked up at the winter sky to see it completely covered in clouds. A light drizzle of icy rain prickled at my face. I moaned, my head falling backwards and then forwards in disbelief. Of all the days for me to be exposed to kryptonite, it would also rain.

_Damn it!_ _Damn my alien biology!_

I spent the remainder of the afternoon in bed, aching and feeling completely lousy. The weather report called for rain for the next day or so, which only meant that my physical discomfort would continue long enough to impede my ability to do much of anything useful or productive. I wasn't completely incompetent, but I wasn't far from it. The only plus side of this situation was that it was actually quiet for once. I heard things around me, but certainly not any sound that came from a great distance.

When Lance came back from his daily workout later on I was determined to get over this thing and go out for the evening with him to the local pizza place. We went there nearly every Monday for the live music and the cheap food. He came in the dorm room to find me sitting up on my bed with my eyes closed and my fingers massaging my temples.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"I'm trying to get better," I replied unemotionally.

Lance started collecting his shower things. "Why?"

"So we can head out."

"You're seriously going out with the group tonight?"

I looked at him with tired eyes. "We go out every Monday. Why wouldn't I go out?"

"'Cause you're sick, man."

I shook my head. "It's just… nothing. I'll get over it."

"Jase," he frowned at me. "Stay in. You're sick. You should sleep."

"Sleep isn't going to help," I said, rolling down on my side to lie on my bed.

"Sleep and get plenty of fluids – general orders from Mom," he said with a wide grin.

I rubbed my eyes again. "I just don't want to feel like this."

"No one does," he said, opening the door to head over to the bathroom to get cleaned up. "But you know, it's all part of being human." He stopped and turned back to look at me. "Hey, did that Marcy chick call here?"

But I didn't hear his question, for my brain got stuck at the previous comment. "What did you just say?"

"Did Marcy call?"

"No, no. Before that."

"Oh, about being human?"

"Yeah."

He shrugged. "Everyone gets sick. It sucks, but what can you do?"

He left the room, unaware of how such a small statement had affected me. My brain went into overdrive thinking about his words. Being sick – feeling this way – was part of being human. Humans feel pain when they are wounded. Humans grow weak under stress and tired under physical exertion. For all intents and purposes, in this moment, having been exposed to kryptonite, there wasn't much difference between a typical, ordinary human being and me.

I sat up, thinking clearly for the first time all day. I had wanted for all these years to be human, and now a possible answer was staring me right in the face. Could it really be that simple? Could I really be able to finally live the same way everyone else did without worry of accidentally giving the secret away? My powers were almost gone. There was no risk of hearing something I shouldn't be able to hear. Running faster than I should be able to run. Being stronger than was humanly possible. If I could keep this up – if I could keep my body in this weakened state – I just might be able to pass for human.

I could think of two problems with the idea straight off. First of all, I'd have to steal the kryptonite. Not only was that a real crime, but I didn't know if I'd be able to do it. Seeing as how I currently didn't have any strength, I would have to wait until I was stronger to swipe it. And even then, I'd end up being exposed to it while I was trying to steal it, which meant I might not be able to pull this off.

Second of all, I'd have to retrain my body to live like this all the time. I'd have to learn to walk even though I felt sluggish. How to concentrate in spite of my mind being muddled. How to handle physical pain again. None of them worried me as much as losing my sensitive hearing. As much as I had enjoyed the quiet today, I wasn't so stupid that I didn't understand this could affect my ability to play the piano. That was a real worry. But I decided to take the risk, anyway.

And so, the next day, for the few moments the sun decided to shine, I made sure my body filled up on as much radiation as possible until I felt more like myself again – more like the partial alien I was. Then, late that night while Lance was off on a date, I easily slipped into the science building and stopped right outside the door to Professor Colburn's room. I took a deep breath and quickly twisted the knob around until the door came open. Not wasting any precious time, I darted to the cabinet and slid the hefty, green meteor rock into my backpack.

My knees buckled slightly, but I forced myself to stand up straight. The weight of the bag felt ten times heavier than it really was as I slung it over my shoulders, but I didn't care. I wiped the handle to the cabinet as well as the doorknob clean to leave no sign that I had been there and pulled the door shut.

My feet dragged as I made my way back to my dorm. My vision blurred. Sounds rattled in my head like empty bottle cans. I felt cold. But again, I didn't care. After all, it was all part of being human, and no one wanted to be human more than I did.

My breath started to quicken. The air seemed as thick as soup. I couldn't let myself panic in any way. Panicking now might bring on an attack, and that was the last thing I wanted. I knew the kryptonite didn't bring on my asthma, but panicking would. So I willed my mind to calm down as I plodded heavily back across campus.

Once in my room, I labored to get the rock out of the bag and into a box in my closet. I was panting now and on the verge of collapsing, which was exactly what I ended up doing. Lance found me sometime later and helped me get into bed. I'm not sure how long I slept. I just know that it was the deepest sleep I'd ever had. And I'm not sure when I woke up, either. In fact, the next week was such a mess I wasn't sure of anything.

The forecast had been accurate. It rained. And it rained. And it rained some more. All the while I was getting weaker and weaker. Lance told me to see a doctor, so I did. I was told I had the flu. That was a laugh, but I took the meds anyway just for show. My body ached. I was constantly cold. And in spite of my willpower to avoid it, my asthma was back. I missed class after class after class, opting to sleep instead of move. I got away with it for a few days, but after missing two piano lessons, my teacher demanded that I come in. I was on a piano scholarship, after all.

I'm not sure how I get there, but I'm sure I must have looked like I was drunk or at least high on some kind of drug. I sat on the piano bench, swaying from side to side, and plunked out the most hideous sounding piece of crap I'd ever played.

"What the hell is going on with you, Jason?" Professor Bolyard snapped at me.

"I'm sick. I have the flu," I mumbled almost incoherently.

"You have missed far too many classes for my liking. If you are really that sick, you need to be in a hospital."

"I'm taking my medicine."

"It obviously isn't working. Go back to the doctor and tell him you are not getting better. Tell him that you either need to get better or be admitted for treatment."

I rolled my eyes, which was such the wrong thing to do.

"We expect more from our scholarship holders, Mr. White. This school is not going to pay for you to just throw that money away because you are too careless to tend to your illness." His voice had risen in volume and was hurting my ears. "Now, I do not want to see you in here again until you have solved this matter. You will get help and you will solve this matter or you will lose your scholarship, understand?"

I blinked. "Yes, sir," I slurred.

It was then that I started to consider how very imprudent this whole scheme was. I spent all night thinking about what I really wanted. Which was more important to me – being human or being a musician? Which brought more happiness to my life? I couldn't really say I'd been very happy the last week or so. And I knew that I would be miserable if I could never play the piano again. Music was my escape. Music was my source of expression. Music was my second language. Was I really willing to give it all up just to feel like this for the rest of my life? No, I wasn't.

When morning rolled around, I figured I would have a rough time getting rid of the rock without looking suspicious. What I hadn't figured on was that Lance was one step ahead of me. My rough week was about to get even rougher.

He came into our room, leaving the door wide open, and stood with his hands in his pockets, looking very guilty. "I've been worried about you, bro. So I hope you don't think I'm a snitch."

"What do you mean?"

"I called over to the _Daily Planet_ and asked for your mom."

I frowned. "What?"

"I told her you were really sick and she said she'd be here as soon as she could."

My already cold body chilled. "You told her I was sick?"

"I told her you've been sick all week. That you've slept all the time. Stuff like that."

Great. Just great. Mom knew I couldn't get sick. At least, not like _that_. She would know it was kryptonite. If she came here, she would figure it out right away what I was up to.

"Thanks, Lance," I growled, flopping back against my bed. "So she's coming here then?"

"Um…" he shifted his feet. "I dunno. She said she'd be here, but then this guy shows up and says that your mom sent him over to check on you – that he was closer and could get here faster."

I froze.

"This guy," I said. "Is he tall? Nerdy-looking? Glasses?"

Lance looked over his shoulder to the open door. "Yeah."

"Is he in the hallway?"

He blushed slightly. "Yeah. I think he heard you call him nerdy."

"Probably," I groaned. "It wouldn't be the worst thing I've ever called him."

Lance looked at me, puzzled. "Do you want me to tell him to go away, or what?"

I considered doing just that. After all, he had agreed to stay away from me, and this was clearly breaking that promise. However, I also understood that he was probably feeling the effects of the kryptonite right now. He was probably growing weak and sick. And I knew that no matter how awful I felt right now, he most likely felt ten times worse. It was malicious of me, but I couldn't resist the temptation of actually being stronger than him for a while.

"You know what," I said, sitting up as best as I could. "If he wants to talk to me so badly, then who am I to stop him? Let him in."

Lance stepped out into the hall. "You heard all that, right?"

Clark came into view, looking rather pale and tense. "I heard."

Our eyes met, and I could see he was angry with me. Typical. I could also see that he was shaky on his legs. He walked into my room, all color drained from his face, his breathing too shallow for Superman. Oh yeah, he could feel the kryptonite. It was painfully obvious that he was having difficulty even standing up straight.

"You okay, dude?" Lance asked Clark.

"I'm fine," Clark replied in a light voice. "Would you mind letting me speak to Jason in private?"

Lace looked at me for approval, and I nodded. Once Lance had walked away, Clark slowly closed the door to my room. He leaned against the wall for support, holding on to the doorknob as if it was the only thing keeping him from falling down. If it was that bad for him, why was he even here? Why risk it? Was he doing this to impress me? To show me that anything I could do he could do better?

"I thought you agreed to leave me alone," I snapped at him.

"I did," he confirmed. "But I figured fatal exposure to kryptonite trumps all agreements."

I snorted. "Fatal?"

He eyed me over his shoulder, still leaning against the door. "Your mother told me that you were sick, so I came over here looking for some hidden kryptonite that might have been the cause of your illness. I never thought I would find it in your _room_." He took a few labored breaths. "What the _hell_ are you doing, Jason?"

His voice was firm, harsh, and demanded my attention. It startled me, for I'd only ever heard him use that tone one other time – when he shouted at me in front of mom and nearly blew his cover. Even then, he didn't swear at me. He'd never sworn at me. It was unlike him to talk to me like that, with a voice so authoritative. It was the voice of a parent, and it left me slightly dazed.

"Are you trying to kill yourself?" he asked.

"Kryptonite won't kill me," I countered quickly. "You told me that a long time ago."

"I said I didn't _think_ it would kill you. And I warned you about testing it to see if I was right!"

"That's not what I'm doing."

"Then explain this to me." He wobbled on his feet and came to rest in the corner beside the door. "Why would you want to do this to yourself?"

I swallowed. "It's just part of being human."

"Human?"

"Yeah, human. Just like everyone else. I have no powers – no abilities. I'm just like any other human being waiting out their mortality." In spite of my efforts to sound normal, my speech was slightly slurred.

He looked at me for a moment, his brows furrowed together. "You can't be serious."

I raised an eyebrow in silent reply.

His head fell forward and he steadied himself by placing his hands on his knees. "Jason, this is not what it's like to be mortal."

"How do you know?"

"Because I've been mortal and this is not what it feels like."

I laughed. "Yeah, right. When were you ever mortal?"

The air in the room stilled as I waited for him to answer. He raised his head to look at me, but only briefly, as if he was considering lying to me. I could see it in the way his eyes shifted. There was something he didn't want me to know.

"You were mortal?" I challenged.

"Yes."

I frowned in disbelief. "When?"

"When I went to Krypton."

"You mean when you left mom?" I said bitterly.

His eyes closed, and he nodded angrily. "Yes, Jason. When I left your mother. When she was pregnant. When you were born. When I made the biggest mistake of my_ life_. Yes!"

I hadn't been expecting that from him, and he very nearly fell over as he yelled at me. As weak as my own body was, I could only imagine how difficult it was for him right now.

"When I left this solar system and was away from the yellow sun." He was panting now, and sweating. I'd never seen him sweat before. "I was mortal then."

I considered his words and found them believable, but there was something in the way he looked at me a moment ago that told me there was more to it than that. Something more that he was unwilling to let me know. Something that made this whole confession of his just another one of his many half-truths.

"You're lying to me," I stated boldly.

He gaped at me. "No, I'm not."

"Then what aren't you telling me?"

His eyes darted away from mine like a caged rabbit. "I'm not lying to you, Jason. Why would I lie about something like this? Good God, Jason!" His body slid down the wall and came to rest in a heap on the floor, his legs bent up in front of him and his head resting back into the corner. He sat there with his eyes closed for a good, long while, his deep and shallow breaths the only sound in the otherwise still room.

"I want," he panted, "you to give me," he huffed, "the kryptonite. I'm not leaving here," he breathed, "with out it."

Give it to him? Was he crazy? "It will kill you!"

"But at least it won't hurt _you_ anymore."

He was crazy. Did he really think I was actually going to give him the very substance that would kill him? Obviously he did, for he repeated his demand.

"Give it to me, Jason."

"No," I said firmly.

His hands balled up into fists. "Damn it, Jason!" he roared with a sudden ferocity. You will give it to me!" Anger flared in his weary eyes.

"I will not—"

"Jason, please—"

"— give it to you."

"Don't do this!"

"But if you will listen to me—"

"If not for me—"

"— you'll see that I am going—"

"— think about your mother."

"— to get rid of it."

"This will kill her!"

"I know."

The shouting match came to an abrupt halt.

"What?" he said, confused.

I rolled my eyes. "I'm not going to give it to you, but I will get rid of it. You can go be a martyr for someone else, but I don't want that on_ my_ head. I have enough to deal with as it is."

He blinked. "But you will get rid of it?"

"I said that I would. And I'm not doing it for you either, just so you know. I can't play piano worth a damn. My music is the only thing I've got going for me right about now, and I'm not about to give it up."

He sighed and let his head fall back against the wall again with a thud. "Where did you even get it?"

"From my professor."

"He just gave it to you?"

"No, I took it."

He shook his head, once again disappointed with my actions. "I'm not going to tell Lois about this."

That surprised me. "You're gonna lie to her again?"

His blue eyes flashed up at me. "If you want me to tell your mother that you have purposefully been exposing yourself to kryptonite, so be it. I think we both know that your temper is nothing compared to your mother's."

He had a point there. Mom was sure to be royally pissed off at me – if not for the kryptonite, then for almost wrecking my college career. So I nodded. "She will ask, though."

"And I will tell her that I found it and got rid of it, and that you should be just fine in a few days." His breathing was so shallow now that he could hardly talk, his voice not more than a whisper. "Which is the truth."

"More or less," I added cynically.

We stared at each other for a long, heavy moment. The tension was thick and palpable.

It had been ages since I'd seen him so weak. A distant part of my mind remembered when my mother had pulled him out of the water that disastrous day and how hurt he had been. More than that, I would never escape the image of him in a hospital bed. But those were memories of a child who didn't know the truth. I was not a child anymore.

"Are we done then?" I asked bitterly. "I'm sure you have something infinitely more important to do."

His face visibly softened. "No. As a matter of fact, I don't."

I rolled my eyes.

He took a deep breath and slowly moved so that he was kneeling. His right hand reached up to grab the doorknob while his left steadied him against the wall. It was like watching an old cripple trying to find their footing. He panted, gasping for breath and sweating from the exertion of his activity.

Once he was upright, he tipped backwards and lost his balance. Somehow I forced my legs to move quickly and I managed to catch him and help keep him from falling to the floor.

"Thank you," he said softly, looking at me with honest gratitude. "How long have you had the kryptonite?"

"Little more than a week," I admitted.

He looked impressed. "And you're still able to stand." It wasn't a question, but a statement.

He turned and rested his hand on the doorknob and his head against the wall. "You promise me that you will get rid of it?"

"I promise," I whined. "Just so long as you promise to leave me alone."

He paused and moved his head just enough so that I could see his profile. "You'll never be alone, Jason."

He opened the door and staggered out into the hall without even so much as a goodbye or a glance back at me.

I wish I could say that we both kept our promises, but I can't. I wish I could say that he was the one who broke his promise, but it was the other way around. I didn't actually get rid of the kryptonite. I kept it. I hid it for a while in the basement of the dorm, behind the washer and dryer where no one would see it. And then later, I had a lead box built to store it in. I didn't think it would be right to put it back out into the world where someone could eventually use it against him. I considered it my one act of charity towards him even though he didn't deserve it. I hated him, but I didn't want him dead.

He kept his side of the deal, though. He did stay away from me. He had come to help me, thinking I was genuinely hurt, and I'd treated him like garbage yet again. He'd pretty much said that he would risk his life for mine, and I had brushed it off as if it didn't matter to me. He'd hurt me so many times in the past that I couldn't understand why his departure this time hurt me so much more. Maybe it was because I knew I'd put the final nail in the coffin. Maybe it was because I somehow knew it would be years before I would speak to him again. Maybe because this time I knew it was really my fault.

But I couldn't let it stop my life. I'd made a horrible mistake. Like father, like son, huh? But I had to go on and press forward. I threw everything I had into my music. All my heart, all my soul. It became my life, my everything. It was my saving grace. My peace and my joy.

Until I met her.


	19. Age 19 part one: Enter the Girl

_AN: I've reached the part in the story where, essentially, it becomes less about Superman and more about Jason and Kate and their relationship. There will be several chapters covering age 19 and 20, and then I'll be fully caught up to ItSomF. If you really don't like reading about original characters, then I'm afraid these next few chapters will not be to your liking. Supes is pretty much out of the picture until Jason makes that phone call to him in chapter two of ItSomF. But I've had so many of you say that you're looking forward to meeting Kate and watch the two of them fall in love that I'm not too worried. Based on your comments and reviews, that will tell me just how much of their relationship you want to see. Believe it or not, I've written the next two chapters already, so I will know how to tweak them according to the feedback I get. If too many of you would really rather I skip ahead and get to the Superman parts, I can do that. But if you want all the nitty gritty – if you want to watch them fall in love completely and be a fly on the way of their personal and intimate conversations, I can do that, too!_

_Many thanks to Hellish Red Devil and htbthomas for their support and attention to detail. You two constantly keep me on my toes! And this chapter was MAMOTH, so don't think I don't know how much I owe you for sifting through this one. _

**Age 19: Enter the Girl**

There are certain events in life that get etched permanently into your memory. Things like where you were when JFK was shot or when you first heard a plane had crashed into the Twin Towers on 9/11. I wasn't alive for either of those events, but I do know what it is to be able to recall a moment with perfect clarity. I have a whole list of moments permanently fixed in my mind, and they all revolve around _her_.

The first time I saw her. The first time I heard her voice. The first time she smiled at me. The first time I heard her name. The first time I heard her say my name. The first time I touched her. The first thing I ever bought her. The first meal we ate together. The first time she kissed me. The first time I kissed her. The first argument we had. The first time she said she loved me. The first time we made up. The first time I said I loved her. The first time she fell asleep in my arms. The first time we made love. And they happened in that order.

It was right after my sophomore year started. Monday night – pizza night – that's when I first saw her. My friends and I always went to the local pizza place for their Monday specials and live music. Lance hooked me up with this very nice, very pretty girl who was rooming with his girlfriend. Melissa. She was undecided about her major, undecided about what she wanted to do in life, and I was undecided if I really was interested in her or not. Lance warned me before we went out about being a "one date only" kind of guy. I told him it wasn't my fault that he always set me up with "one date only" kind of girls.

We ordered our pizzas and were just starting to get into a conversation about the differences between being a freshman and being a sophomore when the door chimed on the restaurant and in walked a group of three girls. We all instinctively looked over at them as they came in, and then went right back to the conversation.

But I did a double take.

I don't know why it happened. I can't explain why I noticed her like that. Can anyone ever explain that kind of thing? But something in her face, in her movements, caught my attention and I couldn't look away. She sat down at a booth in the window with her friends. The sunlight danced over her smooth, blonde hair, making it shine. Her eyes twinkled, and from this distance I wasn't sure if they were green or hazel. I squinted. They were green - like a forest green. Her face was bright and full of joy. She looked so happy, so… free-spirited. My heart fluttered, and I'm sure I had a stupid look on my face. Then she laughed. I tuned my ears in to her conversation and heard her voice for the first time.

"I told her she was crazy!" she said, shaking her head. Her voice was light, and there was a slight accent.

"Girl, you have no idea," her friend said. "I've tried for years to get her to realize that boy is a fruitcake."

"There's no accounting for what some people find attractive," the third girl said.

She nodded in agreement. "Ugh, don't I know it. I always end up with the wrong guy."

"Hey, none of that," the first friend said.

The second friend agreed. "Yeah, you're here to forget about him."

Him? Him who? I didn't like him, whoever he was.

"Jason?"

I spun around to find Melissa grinning up at me. "You wanna refill?" She held up her cup to me, showing me it was empty.

I looked at her face. As pretty as it was, I didn't see the same joy in Melissa's face that I did the girl in the booth. Melissa was a blonde, too, I noticed. Darker blonde, but certainly blonde. It spoke volumes to me that it wasn't until this moment I'd even realized what color hair she had. And her eyes were green, too, but they were that fake green indicative of colored contacts. As I looked at Melissa, I realized that my feelings for her were indifferent. I didn't like or dislike her. And I could recognize that she was pretty. She just wasn't… _her_.

"I'll get it," I said, taking the glass from Melissa and walking over to the soda machine. My back was now to the table with the three girls. I reached out with my hearing to listen in on them again.

"'Scuse me!"

I nearly jumped out of my skin, for there, right beside me, was the lovely blonde from the booth. "I just need a straw." She reached in front of me, not touching me, and grabbed a straw from the dispenser. She smiled up at me, a genuine smile that I hoped would be the first of many, and I immediately felt weak in the knees. And then she was gone. I watched her retreat back to her table, walking lightly, her long hair bouncing against her back. She was gorgeous, and I was smitten.

I scolded myself later for being so rude to Melissa. It wasn't her fault that the pretty blonde in the booth was more interesting than she was. I didn't know anything about that other girl, and yet I couldn't stop thinking about her. I thought about her all night long – all week long, actually. It was frustrating me that I hadn't asked her what her name was. Melissa had talked, about nothing, might I add, all through my chance to listen in on her conversation and possibly learn her name. I'd missed out that first time, but thankfully fate dealt me a second hand.

We ended up at the same party on Friday night. I didn't know she was going to be there, but I couldn't help following her with my eyes once I spotted her. She was with the same two girl friends that were with her at the pizza place, except that this time there were three guys with them as well. The one that had his paws on her looked like a real ignorant fool to me. Oh, sure, he paid attention to her. He also paid attention to about five other girls that night as well. He touched her hair, her arms--I even caught him putting a hand on her breast at one point, which she did not like one bit. I didn't like it either.

"Stop it," she said, swatting his hand away.

"I just wanna little fun, baby. Don't you like to have fun?" His hand found its way back up to her breast.

"I said, stop it!"

Instinctively, I grabbed the guy by his forearm, probably a little tighter than I should have and yanked him around to face me. "The lady said to stop it!" I said through my teeth.

"What's it to you?"

My eyes narrowed and I squeezed his arm.

"OW! Okay – okay."

"You're done here," I ordered, holding on to him tightly for a moment longer before I let him go.

He rubbed his arm, looked over at her and sniggered. "Barbie's not my type, anyway."

I turned my attention back to her. "Are you okay?"

She gaped at me, her eyes drilling into mine with an amazed intensity. "I'm fine. Thanks for that."

"No problem," I mumbled before stupidly darting off to hide from her wide, soul-searching eyes.

I should have stayed there and talked to her. I know that. I should have taken the opportunity to introduce myself to her, but I could tell from the way she looked at me that she was already thinking about what I did and how I was able to do it. I didn't want to open myself up to her questions. Not about _that_.

A few minutes later, I noticed she was sitting with her friends on the patio.

"It's really not a problem. He wasn't my type, anyway," she said with a smile.

"And what is your type, then?"

My ears perked up right away.

"Someone not interested in me for just the sex," was the curt answer.

I didn't like the sound of that. Had someone other than the current jerk at the party done something to her? My blood boiled at the thought.

Her friends laughed. "Good luck on that one, Kate!"

_Kate_. Her name was Kate. _T__he prettiest Kate in Christendom. _

Petruchio was right. She was beautiful.

Just then, her eyes met mine and my body froze. She tilted her head to the side and looked at me – really looked at me – noticing me as I stared back at her. She smiled, and I blushed and darted into the kitchen, my heart racing.

"Hey, do you know that guy?" I heard her ask her friends. With a squint of my eyes, I watched her through the wall. She was pointing in the direction of where I had vanished.

"What guy?"

"Tall, dark hair. He was at the pizza place on Monday."

She remembered me. My mind went a bit fuzzy.

"Dreamy blue eyes? Really good-looking?" asked one of the friends.

"Yeah…" she said, drawing it out.

"Jason White," the two girls said in unison.

"He plays the piano."

"He _plays_ hard to get."

"He went out with this girl that lived next to us last year. She said the date was good, he was really nice, and then nothing."

"He never called her back."

"But he saw her later and was really nice to her."

"He's always _nice_."

"He's roommates with Lance Harper. He plays soccer."

"They are both really cute."

"But Lance has a girlfriend."

"Yeah. So… you know."

The rapid fire of information about my life ended. Kate frowned a little, and I frowned right along with her.

"Jason White…" she mumbled, as if she were testing it out to see how it felt on her lips. I shivered from the way she said it.

"Why did you want to know about him?" the first friend asked.

"'Cause he's been watching me all night."

"Jase?"

I jumped, completely startled by both the fact that Kate was on to me and that Lance had snuck up on me.

"What are you doing?"

I realized that to him, or to anyone else who took notice, it seemed as if I were far too interested in the canisters sitting on the counter top, for that's where my gaze had been focused.

"Oh, um… they really need to clean their kitchen," I said, badly trying to lie my way out of the situation. He never lies…or at least not well!

Before I knew it, Kate and her friends had left the party, and I had missed my second chance to talk to her. Instead, I'd left it up to her friends to gossip about me like I was some gigolo out to use girls. I hadn't expected her friends to know so much about me, let alone tell her I was hard to get. I wasn't. I just turned into a total idiot around girls – especially ones that I liked. It had taken me how many years to form a coherent sentence around Meredith. No wonder I was incapable of talking to Kate. I'd only seen her twice now. At this rate, I would be in my mid-twenties before I'd be able to say hello to her without falling over.

But fate or destiny or whatever you want to believe in had other plans for me. I had never really believed in that kind of thing before I met Kate. And on Monday, when I didn't see Kate at the pizza place, I figured my chances had run out. But on Tuesday, as I rounded the math building, heading for my piano lesson, I ran right into Kate. Literally.

We collided with enough force to knock all the papers out of her hands and send them scattering all over the ground.

"Damn," she mumbled, dropping to her knees quickly and not even looking at me.

But I looked at her. I was stunned. I'd plowed right into her and she didn't seem hurt at all.

"Here, let me help you," I offered, bending down to help gather up the pages.

"Thanks, but they are all such a mess now that I—"

Her eyes met mine.

"You?" she said in a mix of astonishment and puzzlement.

"What?"

"You're… that guy."

I blinked.

"The one from the party – that was staring at me. The one that…"

"That…?"

Her eyes darted to the ground as she grabbed up a handful of pages. "Never mind."

"Here you go." I handed her the stack of pages I had managed to collect.

"Thanks," she smiled, reaching out to take them from me. Our fingertips brushed, letting me touch her skin for the first time, making me shiver slightly.

She went to stand and instantly I reached out to help her up, my hand clasping hers as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Her hand felt good in mine. Almost too good. Soft and warm. I realized I'd held it a little longer than I should have.

"Sorry," I said, pulling my hand away from hers abruptly.

"It's okay."

"I wasn't um… wasn't w-watching where I was going."

"No, I should have been more careful."

"Are you okay?" I would never forgive myself if I hurt her.

"I think the only thing wounded is my pride," she teased.

"Wh – why do you s-say that?" I was tripping over my words now. Great. Real smooth. Clobber her and then stutter at her.

"It's not every day you show how big of a klutz you are in front of a—" Her eyes wouldn't meet mine as she blushed pink. "Never mind."

"Are – um – are you – um…um…" I wanted to punch myself, I felt so stupid! "I'm Jason," I snapped quickly.

"I know," she smiled, looking at me from beneath her long lashes the way girls do. "I'm Kate."

My heart pounded hard against my chest. "I know."

She wet her lips, and then bit them nervously. Good Lord, did she have any idea how tempting it was to watch her do that? Her mouth was just perfection. It probably felt just as perfect as it looked.

"I have to get to class," she said after a long pause.

I snapped out of my little daydream. "Yeah – um – sorry."

"Okay?"

No, it wasn't okay. She was going to walk away. I was going to let her get away from me for a _third_ time! I needed to say something now or the moment would be gone forever. But all I could say was…

"Okay."

"Well… bye."

"Bye."

She walked around me, glancing back at me as she headed down the street.

Damn it! How moronic could I be?! She'd noticed me. She'd blushed when I looked at her. She had even done that girly eye flirt thing that girls do! And what had I said to her, other than 'um'? Nothing! Not a damn thing. No wonder she had walked away. I growled at myself and flopped down on a nearby bench, pounding my hands on my head.

"What is your problem?" I asked myself. "This is _not_ that difficult. Just talk to her! Would you like to have dinner sometime? See, the words come out just fine now. What's your phone number? You didn't even get her phone number!"

"644 – 9711."

My head snapped up to find her smiling down at me. I leapt to my feet in total surprise.

"Hey," I said, trying to sound cool about the fact that she'd just heard me talking to myself.

"I didn't get _your_ phone number either, so don't beat yourself up about being stupid," she grinned.

I blinked. She wanted my phone number? "Um… it's 642 – 3537."

She scribbled it down on some paper and then handed me a bit she had torn off. "Here. This is me."

I took it from her, my eyes never leaving her face. Gathering up my courage, I blurted out, "Do you wanna go to dinner with me?"

She laughed. "I hardly know you. And you probably know even less about me."

"Well, isn't that why people go out… for dinner, I mean?"

She laughed again. "I don't know. Are you always this jittery?"

I sighed and resorted to admitting the truth. "No. Only when trying to talk to a beautiful girl."

She blushed again, and pursed her lips. "Okay, I'll have dinner with you, but only on the condition that you actually talk to me instead of just staring."

I pulled my gaze away, suddenly aware that I had been staring the whole time. "Sorry."

The old campus bell tower sounded the hour.

"I have to get to class. Call me, okay?"

"Okay."

And then she was gone again.

I didn't get much sleep that night. My thoughts were too busy thinking about her. Should I have called her that evening? Would that look too desperate? What would I say when I talked to her? She was right that I didn't know anything about her. Why was I so drawn to her, then? She could be a dingbat airhead for all I knew. But I couldn't deny the way I felt when she smiled at me. I wanted to make her smile more often.

Being groggy and tired, it didn't help matters that it rained the next day. No sun meant that I'd have to jumpstart my body the human way. Coffee. I stopped in the village on my way to class and ordered a tall espresso only to be startled by a tap on my shoulder.

"Hey you," she said with a smile.

"Kate!" I nearly spilled my coffee I jumped so.

"You didn't call me." She was still smiling, so I didn't think she was angry.

I wiped away the few drops of liquid that had splashed over the side. "Um… no. No, I didn't. And I um… I have a g-good reason for that, too."

"You do? Well, then you can sit down and tell me about it." She nodded over to her table in the corner. "Unless you're in a hurry?"

My mind completely forgot about anything I had to do – ever. "No. No. I have a few minutes," I said, taking a seat across from her and slipping out of my wet jacket.

"So…" she extended the vowel sound. "Your good reason?"

"Oh. Um. Um. I wanted to call. I just um…"

She pursed her lips again and leaned forward. "I have to wonder about you. I mean, you stared at me at the pizza place. You stared at me through the party. And yet you don't take the initiative to talk to me? Or even call me once you have my number?"

"Well, see…"

"Do you even really… I mean, are you even interested in me?"

"Are you kidding?" I gaped.

"No. Because if you aren't, then let me know so I can—"

"I didn't want to look desperate," I blurted out. "I thought if I called you right away you'd think I was desperate."

She eyed me. "_Are_ you desperate?"

"Yes," I admitted. "Desperate to get over my nerves so I can talk to you without sounding like an idiot and tell you how very much I want to get to know you better."

She relaxed in her seat. "Well, what was wrong with that?"

A smile tugged at my lips. "Nothing. But I'm still nervous."

She chuckled. "Don't tell me you're afraid of me."

"Okay. I won't tell you that then."

"After what you did at the party? How can you be afraid of me?"

I crossed my arms in front of me, feeling suddenly exposed. "I just didn't want him to hurt you."

"Well, I really appreciated it. I hate guys like that – all grabby and feeling like they have the right to touch you just because you agreed to go on a date with them."

"I'll keep that in mind," I nodded.

She gasped. "Oh! I didn't mean… I wasn't talking about you."

"How do you know? I could be just like that."

She shook her head. "But you're not. Your eyes are too gentle."

My gaze locked with hers at that moment and held fast. I heard her heart rate increase, saw the blush rise to her cheeks.

The blasted tower clock chimed, pulling me away from her yet again. "I have to get to class," I said regrettably. "Can I walk you somewhere?"

"I don't have class for another hour. I was just going to sit here where it's dry and sip my coffee." She lifted her cup to me. "I'll have to get another one soon."

"Okay." I stood up and started for the door, only to turn back around and head up to the counter. I made my purchase and took it over to Kate.

"What's this?"

"It's a miniature spy cam disguised as a coffee mug," I teased.

She looked up at me as if I were insane.

"Nah, see, you can refill the mugs for a dollar any time you want. It has to be one of the house brands though."

A bright, wide smile spread across her face, reaching all the way to her eyes. "Thanks! That's very sweet of you."

"It's just a coffee mug," I shrugged.

She batted her eyes at me. "That's twice you've come to my rescue."

I grinned. "I'll call you. I promise."

"You had better!"

I walked out into the rain feeling a bit lightheaded from all her beautiful smiles. A glance back at her told me she was on her cell phone. I reached out with my senses and picked up on her conversation.

"I'm not kidding. I didn't even ask him to do it. He just bought it."

"Awww," the voice on the phone said. "That's really sweet of him!"

"You know, I knew moving to Metropolis meant having to deal with Superman all the time, but I wasn't expecting this."

I froze, my heart skipping a few beats. Superman? How did she know?

"Oh, Kate, come on. This has nothing to do with Superman. Jason is just a nice guy. You really need to get over the whole Superman thing. You won't make any friends with that attitude."

What Superman thing?

"I've made one friend. At least, I hope so." Kate played with the mug I gave her.

The voice laughed. "You do not want him as a _friend_. You want him as something else and you know it."

Her mouth opened in mock horror. "Danielle, I am appalled that you would even suggest such a thing!"

The girls broke out into laughter. If I didn't go now I would miss my class. I wanted to stay and find out about this "Superman thing," but I'd had too much trouble last semester thanks to my little kryptonite stunt that I didn't dare skip classes this semester. I made it my goal to find out about the "Superman thing" as soon as possible.

We talked on the phone on Wednesday. I called to set up the date for Friday, which she agreed to, but then the conversation kept going. And going. After about twenty minutes, she asked me to meet her somewhere. Naturally, I agreed and we returned to the site of our first encounter: Mario's Pizzeria.

Over a slice of veggie lovers, I asked her what her major was.

"If I tell you, will you promise to not run away from me screaming?"

That got me worried. "Okay."

"Psychology."

"As in… you're going to be a psychiatrist?"

"Psychologist, actually," she corrected. "Focusing mainly on family issues."

"Why would that make me run screaming?"

"Most guys are intimidated by 'the head shrinker.'" She dropped her voice about an octave when she said it. "So I've come to avoid the topic of my major until after the first date."

"So I'm ahead of schedule, then."

"No," she disagreed. "The coffee shop. That was kind of like a date."

"No," I countered. "That was… luck. And you must have a really low opinion of me if you think I'd take a girl to a coffee shop in the rain for a first date."

"Actually, I have a very high opinion of you."

I didn't know what to say to that. It left me a bit flustered.

"What about you?" she asked.

I was confused, my brain still working on the fact that she had a high opinion of me. "What about me?"

"I was told that you play the piano."

"I do."

"Are you a music major?"

"I am. Piano performance, actually."

"Oh."

"What's that mean?"

"Just… that's… you know."

Yeah, I _did_ know. "You think a guy who is a piano performance major probably 'plays for the other team.'"

She laughed.

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table. "I assure you, that is not the case."

"I didn't think it was," she said, but her smile gave her away.

"Yes, you did, even if it was for just one brief moment, you did think it. Everyone does. I'm kind of used to it."

"Sorry," she said in a delightful little voice.

"Don't be. It's true that there are a lot of guys like that in the department – not that there's anything wrong with that. It's just not me. And you know, as much teasing as I've had about it over the years, I always like to point out that there are a lot of really great girls in the music department, and most of the guys aren't interested in them. So a guy like me…"

"A guy like you, who's handsome and straight, becomes a chick magnet," she concluded.

I wanted to tell her I wasn't like that, but my brain got hung up on the fact that she'd just said I was handsome.

"So you went into music to pick up girls?" she asked.

"No, I went into music because I love it and I'm good at it."

She eyed me skeptically. "You're good? How good?"

I knew my limits musically. I knew who was the best in the school and I wasn't it. But I wasn't the worst either. "I'm better than average," I said.

"Will you play for me?"

"Sure."

"Friday?"

"No, that's a first date. I've never played for a girl on the first date."

She gasped. "It won't be a first date! What do you call this?"

"This is um…" I searched for the right word. "This is hooking up at the last minute. No planning – no effort. That's not a date."

"Well, I think of it as a date."

"Okay, so Friday will only be a second date then."

"Let me guess, you don't play for a girl on the second date, either?"

"I would, but you risk swooning all over me from the passion of my music," I kidded her, surprising myself in the process. It wasn't like me to feel so comfortable so quickly around a girl. I felt like I could almost tell her anything. Almost.

She laughed. Her laugh was delightful – infectious. I wanted to hear more of it.

"So, what about you?" I asked.

"I told you. I'm a psych major."

"I know that, but why? Why did you want to go into psychology?"

"Um…" she hesitated, her eyes unwilling to meet mine for some reason.

"What?"

"I don't want to spoil the mood."

"What do you mean?"

"I just…" She shrugged. "I have family issues."

I snorted. "Who doesn't?"

"True, but mine were really bad."

"So are mine," I said without thinking.

"Did your mom die when you were six?"

The abruptness of the comment left me a bit stunned. "No."

"Mine did. In a fire. My baby sister died, too."

I had nothing to offer her but a very weak, "Sorry."

"I didn't mean to say that so harshly," she said gently. "I don't normally talk about it – especially to someone I don't know very well. But I feel like…"

"Like you could tell me anything?" I finished for her.

"Yeah. It's strange."

I leaned forward. "Well, if you want to tell me, I have pretty good ears. And I'm also very well-practiced in the art of keeping secrets."

She exhaled slowly. "It was devastating. My dad got remarried awhile later, which I resented. Pam." She made a face that reflected her feelings. "When they had kids, I felt like he'd gone off and started a new family without me. It was awful there for a while. I had never really dealt with my mom's death, so I couldn't move on very well. My family went to a psychologist, and we worked through some things. She was amazing. She gave me my Dad back. Made me realize that even though he had other children and another wife, that didn't mean he didn't love my mom or that he didn't still love me. She kind of became my role model. I decided that I wanted to be like her – I wanted to help people work through the problems in their families – try to stop so many families from falling apart."

My God. Could this woman be any more remarkable than she already was?

"That's a very noble ambition," I said quietly. "I just want to play piano."

Kate smiled brightly. "That's noble."

"It is?"

"Sure. You want to fill the world with beautiful music. The arts are so important to society. They inspire us and make us feel. It's an external expression of emotion, and we need that. You're just contributing to it."

I started at her for a moment, completely amazed by her astuteness.

"Unless you really are just in it to pick up chicks," she added with a shrug.

I laughed. "Now why would I need that? All I needed to do was plow into someone and buy her a coffee cup."

Her cheeks turned pink. "Ha. Very funny."

"Well, I thought so."

I walked her back to her apartment, which wasn't far from The Village. I had been calm and collected around her all evening, but the nerves that normally persisted in making me feel like an idiot came on full force once we arrived at her door. She looked up at me from under those long lashes, and I felt dizzy.

"So, this is me."

"Yup."

"I had a nice time."

"Me, too."

"I'm glad you finally decided to call me."

"Me, too."

"Will you call me again?"

"Sure."

"And I'll see you on Friday?"

"Absolutely."

"Are we back to one-word responses?"

"Oh… I… just…"

My heart was hammering in my chest. I wanted to kiss her, but it was so soon. Her heart was pounding just as fast, if not faster than mine. Did that mean she wanted me to kiss her? Her face was very close. I could smell her shampoo.

I had to say something. "I – I just wanted you to know—"

But my words were lost as she pressed her mouth to mine, gently, sweetly, innocently. Her lips were softer than I'd imagined, and the kiss was over far too fast for my liking, but when she pulled away, I didn't protest. She had _kissed_ me. _She_ had kissed _me_, and that was enough for now.

"Good night, Jason," she sighed and then turned to go into her apartment.

"Good night, Kate."

She offered me one last charming smile before closing the door all the way. From the other side I could hear the girls' voices bombarding her with questions.

"What was he like?"

"Are you going out again?"

"Did he pay for the food?"

"Did he say he liked you?"

"Did he kiss you?"

"Why didn't you invite him in?"

"Guys! Please!" Kate said, and I squinted so that I could see her. "It was… nice. He's very sweet and…"

"And?"

"And yes, we're going out again."

"Really?!" The two girls said in unison.

"You're kidding!"

"He never goes out with anyone twice."

"Well," Kate said, turning bright red, "we're going out on Friday."

"Did he kiss you?"

She giggled and began to unbutton her blouse. As tempting as it was to watch, as much as I wanted to hear her reply, I knew better than that. Kate deserved better than a peeping Tom, and I would try very hard to be better for her. I averted my eyes and went back to my own apartment where I slept very soundly, dreaming of her.

I took the initiative and called her again on Thursday. Our schedules were such that getting together really was a problem with my rehearsal and her lab meeting that night, but we still ended up talking right up until the very moment she realized she was going to be late for class. It really was amazing how easy she was to talk to. I found myself wanting to reveal things to her that I knew I shouldn't. After all, there was still the mystery of the "Superman thing" that I had to get to the bottom of before I could even consider telling her the truth.

By the time our date on Friday rolled around I had worked myself into a total dither about her. She was all I had thought about for days now. I thought about her when I bought a cup of coffee Friday morning. I thought about her when I passed the psych building on campus. I thought about her when I practiced my piano. I even did something I hadn't done in a long time – I fiddled around with a piece of music I had in my head – a melody that reminded me of her. I wasn't much of a songwriter, but sometimes there just wasn't any other way to express what I was feeling. What had Kate called it? An external expression of emotion.

When I picked her up at her apartment that evening, I found myself right back where I started, nearly unable to talk to her. She was so beautiful in her flowing skirt and formfitting top. Did she have any idea how perfectly that top fit her? Hugging her curves in just the right way. Revealing just enough skin to taunt me but not enough to be indecent.

Somehow I made it through dinner without sounding like too much of a fool. I made her laugh several times, and I hoped she was laughing _with_ me and not_ at_ me. We talked about her home back in Virginia and how much she tried to not have an accent. I loved her slight accent. She missed the green, open, free feeling of her home, but she loved the constant activity of the city, too. And she missed her siblings. She had a half-brother and sister from her dad's second marriage. I smiled shyly and told her I was an only child.

"What else do you have planned?" she asked on our way out of the restaurant.

"Movie?" I shrugged.

She smirked at me. "Come on, you have to have something more original planned."

"Well, the orchestra is rehearsing for their Labor Day recital. It's all patriotic music, if you like that kind of thing."

"I do!" she beamed. "Are we allowed to go listen?"

"If you want."

I don't know what made me do it, but I felt the impulse to take her hand. I just wrapped my fingers around hers and held on tightly, hoping my hand wasn't too sweaty from my nerves. She blushed and hid her eyes from me for a moment before looking up at me in that oh-so-sweet way she did.

We headed across the street and down the walk, coming upon a crowd of people gathered in the commons for some unknown reason. Flashing red and blue lights alerted us that the police were there. And then came the unmistakable flash of red and blue fabric that signaled the arrival of…

"Superman!" someone exclaimed.

"Superman. Thank God," another voice said, relieved.

I glanced over the heads of the crowd to see that there had been a car accident and someone was trapped in one of the vehicles. Before anyone asked him to, he carefully righted the car, pulled the door off, and reached in to check on the passenger.

"Are you okay?" I heard him say.

I clenched my fists in irritation and realized for the first time that Kate's hand was no longer attached to mine. I looked to my right, then to my left, but she wasn't there. I turned around and found her down the street a ways, grumbling something to herself.

"You knew he would be here, Kate. Just get over it. This is where he lives."

Who was she talking about? She sounded so upset. Was it…Superman that had upset her? I approached her hesitantly. "Kate? What's wrong?"

She huffed and turned to face me. "I'm sorry, Jason."

"Nothing to be sorry about. I just wondered why you walked away."

She looked very nervous, more nervous than I had ever seen her before. "I knew that this would come up sooner or later, I was just hoping it would be later than this. I mean, I like you so much, and I know once you find out you'll tell me I'm crazy. _Everyone_ thinks I'm crazy."

"I don't understand," I said, confused.

"Superman," she mumbled under her breath.

I tensed up. "What about him?"

She closed her eyes. "Oh, what the hey." She opened her eyes and looked directly at me, making me very worried. "I think he's a jerk."

I blinked, stunned by her statement, for that had been the last thing I was expecting her to say. I wet my lips and said, "I beg your pardon?"

She shook her head, her long hair dancing down her back. "You don't believe me. You think I'm crazy. I mean, what person in their right mind thinks Superman is a jerk? I mean, he's _Superman_. He's the hero to end all heroes, right? He does all kinds of good things day in and day out. But see, here's the thing, Jason – how does he decide who he's going to help and who he won't ? Who gave him the right to even _make_ that kind of decision? There are people in danger all over the world. Why did he decide to help that person in the car right now? Why not save someone falling off a cliff? Why not save someone who might be drowning? Why that person?"

I didn't have a good answer. "I don't know."

"I don't know either. And here's another thing – why is it that we put so much trust and faith in him, anyway? He is an alien, right?"

My heart fluttered. "Right."

"How many horror stories have we been told about aliens coming down and taking over? But the aliens are usually green and scaly with tentacles and six eyes. We only trust _him_ because he's good-looking. If he looked like an alien out of some science fiction movie, even if he still did nice things, I have to wonder if we'd trust him as much. But give him a great body and a tight-fitting suit and the ladies are ready to swoon."

She had a point there, as much as it stung me to consider. "So, you don't like Superman?"

"No, I don't. You can think I'm crazy if you want, but it won't change how I feel about him. There's too much history there."

"History?"

"My – my mom. She – when she died. See, what you have to understand is that my mom was a huge Superman fan. She clipped every article or magazine picture she could find. She kept a scrapbook even. And she didn't buy into the theory that he left us on purpose. So when he came back, she felt so relieved that she was right – that he left to go home and see what was there. So once he came back, she told me that if ever I was in trouble – and it had to be real trouble, because Superman is a busy man; we shouldn't just ask for help if our cat is stuck up a tree-- but that if ever I was in real trouble, that I should call for him as loudly as I could and that he would come and help me, because that's what Superman does."

I took a step closer to her even though I suddenly felt very chilled. "You called for him to save your mom and he didn't come," I assumed, putting the pieces together.

She nodded in the affirmative. "I yelled myself hoarse and he never showed up. Not even afterwards. And then, a day or so later, we were at my aunt's house and I saw on the news that Superman had been in Centennial Park having a statue dedicated to him while my mom was dying. A statue, Jason! A statue celebrating his good deeds. Now tell me, what right did he have to ignore me that day? Had he been saving someone else, I could understand. But that – that makes no sense to me."

It didn't make sense to me either, and I remembered that day. Mom was covering the celebration and I had begged her to go along. It was just after he had returned and he had dealt with all the mess left behind from New Krypton. I remembered being so proud that I had been a part of it, and how excited I was that he was my friend. Oh, the foolishness of youth.

Kate huffed. "So, that's my horrible secret. I think Superman is a jerk. I'm the only one on this whole planet who doesn't worship him – who feels this way about him, but that's just how it is. If you'd had my experience with him, you might feel the same way."

"Kate—"

"If you don't want to see me anymore—"

"Why would I not want to see you anymore?"

"Because," she said pointedly, "you're from Metropolis. Superman is your idol."

I took a step closer. "No, he's not."

"Oh, you can be nice about it. Most people usually are at first. They say I'm entitled to my opinion, but a few days later they will try to convince me otherwise."

"I won't do that," I said, taking her hands in mine.

She looked up at me skeptically. "You swear you won't tell me I'm crazy?"

I laughed. "I won't tell you that because I don't think you are."

"Even though I think the world's biggest hero is nothing but a zero?"

"Yup. Because I feel the same way."

She jumped. "You do?"

I smiled. "Yes, I do. In fact, I would be willing to bet that I think he's more of a jerk than you do."

She still didn't believe me. "Are you pulling my leg?"

"Nope."

"Why don't _you_ like him? What did he do to you?"

How to explain this? I'd never tried to explain it to anyone before, always insisting on changing the topic whenever Superman was discussed. But I had a pretty good idea the direction I could take and not give myself completely away.

"Do you know who Lois Lane is?" I asked.

"Of course. My mother's favorite article was 'I spent the night with Superman,' and she hated the one about why the world doesn't need him. How could I _not_ know who Lois Lane is?"

I grimaced and braced myself for the blow. "That's… she's… my mom."

Kate cocked an eyebrow at me. "Your mom?"

"Yeah."

"Lois Lane is your mother?" she repeated for clarity.

"Yes."

"Oh, my goodness," she said under her breath.

I wet my lips and pressed forward, not knowing if I was judging her reaction correctly or not. "I've been bombarded and surrounded with information and stories about Superman my entire life. Some of them good… some of them bad… and Kate—"

"Have you met him?" she interrupted.

"Several times," I said honestly.

"What's he like?"

"He's…" I considered the many options for how to answer that question. He's insensitive. He thinks he's superior to everyone. He's a liar. He's a bad father. Given Kate's reaction to who my mother was, I didn't dare tell her the rest of the story. Hence, I went with the answer I normally gave when asked about Superman. "He's tall."

"And?"

"And a jerk," I confirmed.

"Tell me something. Is he as conceited privately as he seems publicly?"

"More so," I said without hesitation.

"I knew it." She looked up at me, wide eyed. "I never thought I would meet anyone who felt even remotely similar to what I feel towards Superman."

"Me neither."

She stepped close to me, her hands resting on my shirtfront. "You really aren't like any other guy I've ever met, Jason."

I put my hands on her waist. "Well, I would hope that your… um… attraction… to me… has more to it than the fact that I don't care for Superman."

She giggled and buried her head against my shoulder. I shuddered at the very nearness of her body against mine.

"I was attracted to you from the first glance," she said, tilting her head up to look at me.

"Me, too," I said, daring to wrap my arms around her waist and hold her against me more snugly. "I couldn't stop thinking about the beautiful blonde at the pizza place."

"For me it was that tall, dark, and handsome guy who rescued me from my hideous date last week." Her hands slid around my neck. "Who needs Superman when you're around?"

I frowned. "Can we please not talk about him?"

"No problem."

Her face was so very close to mine.

"I'd rather not talk at all," I said, touching my nose to hers, inhaling her heavenly scent.

"My thoughts exactly," she breathed, her eyes falling shut.

Gently, I slid my lips over hers in a slow, deep kiss. She tasted so sweet, and I couldn't help but deepen the kiss so that I could taste her fully. Her lips were soft and her breath was warm and her body felt so perfect pressed up against mine. I felt her smile against my mouth, which only made me smile in return.

"This could become very addicting, you know that?" she mumbled through a kiss.

"What?" I asked, kissing her again.

"Kissing you."

I kissed her again. "Is that a bad thing?"

"No, I just don't normally kiss on the first date."

I leaned back to look at her. "Hey, you're the one who kissed me first, and I thought this was a second date."

"I did, and it is." She ran her fingers through my hair, making me shiver in delight. "I'm just saying that you caught me. I'm hooked."

I reached up and stroked her cheek with my hand. She was so delicate, so soft. How was this even possible that I'd gotten so lucky? Things like this didn't happen to me. And yet here I was, standing in the middle of the commons with my arms wrapped around the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen, kissing her and falling head over heels for her. More than that, she was feeling this, too. I knew from the way her heart raced and the way her body relaxed against mine. I knew it meant I would have to keep the truth from her, and I hated that, but I wasn't willing to give her up. By her own admission, she was hooked. Even though I'd never believed in such things, it was fate that brought us to this moment. Who was I to fight against it?

"I feel the same way," I said, and I proved it with another kiss.

_AN #2: I tried to go back and tweak this so that Jason wasn't drawn to her at first for simply physical reasons. I wanted him to like her for something other than the fact that she was pretty. So I mentioned it to my husband - since he's the only guy I could really talk about this with and he wouldn't think I'm nuts! LOL! This was our conversation:___

_"I want him to like her for something other than just being pretty."__  
__"He just sees her, right?"__  
__"Right."__  
__"And how old is he?"__  
__"Nineteen."__  
__Smirk... "He likes her because she's pretty."___

_And since I'm on the subject of my husband, before I get reviews challenging the nature of how fast this all happened between Jason and Kate, I knew within a week of meeting my husband that I would marry him. Sometimes, you just know. I gave that to Jason and Kate. _


	20. Age 19 part two: From Solo to Duet

_AN: __This chapter serves no purpose other than to fulfill my own romantic desires. LOL! I could skip it and the plot would still be in tact, but both of my wonderful beta readers loved it and told me to definitely include it in the story. So again, if you are open to mushy romance, then this is the place for you! And you thought I'd never be nice to Jason!_

_I would like to encourage all of you to visit my live journal for this chapter. I have provided links were you can hear all of the music in the chapter, including the original piece Jason plays at the end. You can find me at alphielj dot livejournal dot com._

_Many thanks to my wonderful beta readers – hellish red devil and htbthomas. You guy always make sure I don't ever over look anything. _

**Age 19 part two: From Solo to Duet**

"When am I going to hear you play?"

I'd heard that question about a hundred times over the last week or so. I'd heard it so many times I was even hearing it my sleep! I had dreams of her asking over and over again, only to wake up in a sweat once that dream turned into a nightmare. I knew I wouldn't be able to hold it off much longer, but the build up was killing me.

"Why don't you want to play for me?" she asked whenever she didn't like my answer to the previous question, which was usually all the time.

"It isn't that I don't want to play for you," I offered her the last time she asked me about it. "It's that there's been this anticipation for it and I'm not sure you're going to think it was worth the wait."

She smirked. "Jason, that's silly. You told me yourself that you had a scholarship. They don't give scholarships to people who are lousy."

She had a point, but what she didn't understand was how much her opinion meant to me. Even after the short few weeks we'd been together, she had become my voice of reason. She was so good at everything she did and even without much knowledge of psychology I could tell that she would be a real success at her career. She just had that way about her. She was so easy to talk to. So easy that I often had to check myself that I wasn't saying too much too soon. She was just too good to be true and I didn't want her thinking she'd made a mistake by dating me.

If I played for her and she didn't think highly of it, then what? I wanted to make music a career, not just a hobby. Would she think, as so many of my friends had in the past, that I was kidding myself about this? If she told me that she felt I needed to have something to "fall back on," it just might break my heart. Those were words dreaded by all artistic people. They meant that you had talent, but not enough to really go the distance and make a living with it.

But I couldn't keep her waiting too long. She threatened to sit outside of my next lesson and listen to me with or without my consent if I didn't play for her soon. So I gave in and made arrangements to have access to Professor Bolyard's office Saturday evening.

"Why don't you have your own piano?" she asked as I opened the door to his room.

"I do at home. The school provides us with dozens of pianos in rehearsal rooms for free, so it's not that big of a deal. My apartment here is small and I don't think the neighbors, or Lance for that matter, would appreciate it if I pounded on it all day long. I like to play loudly."

"True," she agreed. "And you live on the fourth floor. Not an easy task to get a piano up four flights of stairs."

I wondered for a moment how she would respond if I told her I could lift a piano with one hand and not even break a sweat. "Besides," I said, ignoring the thought, "even if I had a piano at my apartment, I would still play for you on _this _piano."

"Why?"

"Because it's the best," I stated simply, placing my stack of music on the instrument.

She ran her fingers over the keyboard, "You mean, it's the best design because it's a grand piano?"

I chuckled and leaned up against the bend in the piano's side. "Maybe. It is the longest concert grand I've ever seen, and longer pianos generally sound better. The strings of a longer piano aren't stretched as much and so their pitch is tuned closer to that of equal temperament. That's why you don't see a concert pianist playing on an upright. Not that there is anything really wrong with an upright. That's what I have at home. They just don't hold their tone as well or match the pitch as perfectly."

"So, what you're saying is that in the case of the piano, size _does_ matter." Her eyes twinkled in delight.

"Very funny, but… true. And this piano in particular has the best sound of any piano I have ever had the pleasure of playing."

Kate plunked out a few notes, listening for the difference I was sure her untrained, human ears wouldn't pick up on.

"Do you know how to play anything?" I asked.

"Um…" she blushed. "_Chopsticks_." And she started in on the familiar repeat banging that everyone recognizes. "Isn't this everyone's first song on a piano?"

"Mine was _Heart and Soul_."

"But that's a duet."

"Traditionally. But it doesn't have to be."

She smirked. "Show me."

"Oh now come on, we didn't come out here for my silly rendition of _Heart and Soul_."

She giggled. "I want to hear it! And you promised me you would play anything I asked you to that you knew."

I had promised her that. I just hadn't expected she would request to hear such an over played and unimpressive song. Reluctantly, I slid behind the piano and began playing the best version I could improvise. The song was so easy to tweak. I think every piano student in the whole school had their own version. Mine was a little jazzier than most.

Kate laughed and applauded, obviously enjoying herself. However, as is the nature of the song, it got repetitious and dull after a few rounds.

"Okay," I said bringing the song to an abrupt halt. "Now can I play something real for you?"

"I guess so. If you insist. But Jason, that's pretty impressive to someone like me who can barely get though _Chopsticks_." She picked up one of my music books.

"What do you want to hear?"

"I don't know. What can you play?"

"Whatever you like. Who's your favorite composer?"

"I like Mozart."

"Mozart it is," I said, sitting up straight. "I had to play a sonata of his for my audition into the school. You'll probably recognize it."

I went to work playing the piece. It was fun and lighthearted, like so much of Mozart's music. It never ceased to amaze me that he had died when he was only thirty-five years old and had composed more than six hundred pieces in that time, some of them the most famous pieces of music in history.

When the piece came to an end, I looked up expectantly to see Kate smiling brightly. "That was wonderful! What's it called?"

"Um… _Piano Sonata Number Sixteen in C_."

She rolled her eyes. "Why can't they give things better names than that? Like the _Moonlight Sonata_ – that's a pretty name."

"Yes, but a much darker piece of music."

"I suppose you know that one, too?"

Grinning, I said, "I do." And I showed her. "I played it in my junior recital," I said a few bars into the piece. "It's a bit slower than most of the pieces I like, though. I like to play fast. The middle section is my favorite."

I ended the piece just as soft and as slowly as I had started it and once again looked up at her for her smile of approval. When I was met with a thoughtful expression I started to worry. "What's that look for?"

"I'm just… moved. It's amazing how different the two pieces made me feel."

"Not really," I said, turning to her. "Mozart and Beethoven are very different composers so their music _should_ make you feel different. Mozart is more known for writing very balanced and delicate music. He has his darker pieces, but most of his piano solo work is lighter. Beethoven's music, on the other hand, reflects more conflict, more unsettlement. Not to mention that it's also a little more sexy."

Her eye brows shot up. "Sexy?"

"Yup. I'm hoping to play his _Piano Concerto Number 5_ for my final this year. That will prove to you that he's sexy!"

"Why don't you show me now?" she said, leaning into the curve of the piano like a little flirt.

"Because it's a concerto, Kate. I'd need an orchestra behind me."

Her mouth formed a little round "o".

"So, what else?" I asked.

She thought for a moment. "Did you ever see that movie about the pianist who went crazy playing the _Rach Three_?"

I was impressed. "You know the _Rach Three_?"

"I saw the movie."

"Well the _Rach Three_ is…" There were no words to describe that piece of music. Impossible didn't do it justice. Nor did brilliance. "Pretty much anything by Rachmaninov is amazing, but that piece is in a category of its own. I don't have the music and even if I did, I don't think I could even come close to doing it justice."

She hummed and I worried that I was losing her interest. "But I can play a Rachmaninov Prelude," I offered.

Without waiting for her approval, I pounded out the opening octaves of the _Prelude in C sharp_. Being one of my most personal pieces, I pretty much lost track of the fact that Kate was even in the room while I was playing. I got into the middle section and just let my fingers fly over the keyboard. I reminded myself of how much I'd been hurt by a certain flying boy scout and how I'd never live up to his standards. I took my anger out on the notes, as usual, but my touch on the keys softened as I reached the ending.

With the last two chords, I looked up at Kate to find her staring at me wide eyed. Her heart was racing, as was her breath. I instinctively reached to touch her hand. "Kate? Are you okay?"

"Jason." She shook her head. "You are amazing," she said softly. "The emotion that you express when you played that was so powerful. Whatever… happened to you… to make you feel that… I don't ever want you to feel that way again."

I looked into her expressive eyes and felt the compassion and sincerity behind those words. Something in the way her eyes held onto mine told me that as long as I had her in my life, I wouldn't feel that way ever again. But keeping her in my life meant lying to her about who I was. I didn't know how much longer I could maintain that lie and still see that compassion in her eyes.

It was a double-edged sword. Our relationship was so new and I wasn't ready to let go of it yet. I didn't think I'd ever be able to let go of her. That meant she could never know the truth about me. It wasn't that I thought she would tell the world who I was and put me or my family in any sort of danger as I'd always assumed would happen if anyone knew who I was. This time, I didn't dare tell her out of fear that she would hate me once she knew. After all, she hated _him_… and I was too much like him to ignore.

But on the other hand, not telling her meant that I had to participate in the very thing that angered me most about my past. People had lied to me – people that I trusted and loved. If Kate trusted me… if she even felt a portion for me of what I was feeling for her – she would be more than angry that I wasn't telling her the truth. It was hypocritical of me to accuse him of lying to me and my mother about so many things and then to turn right around and do the same thing with Kate, and I knew it.

The long moment of stillness passed and Kate drew her eyes away from mine as she started shuffling through my music. "Do you memorize everything you play?"

"It's easier if you do. Sight-reading is okay, but if you really want to perform a piece, you should memorize it so it becomes a part of you."

"What are you working on now?"

"A contemporary piece. It's kind of jazzy. Do you want to hear it?"

She nodded and I grabbed my copy of the _Sonatina Op. 100_ by Nikolai Kasputin. "I don't know the whole thing," I explained, thankful for the fact that Kate didn't know music any better than she did, for my fingers messed up quite a few times. I stopped about halfway through. "It turns a bit minor right here, and I haven't practiced it that far. It repeats though, so I'm almost through it."

She squinted at me. "How long have you had that music?"

"About two weeks. Why?"

"Two weeks?" She smiled brightly. "You can play something like that in only two weeks? Jason, you're fantastic!"

"Not _fantastic_. I'm sight-reading it… badly."

"_I _think you're brilliant," she said honestly. "If I had talent like that…"

"You are very talented," I corrected.

"Not like that. I can't draw or sing or any of that performance stuff."

"No, but you listen. When I talk to you…" My eyes shied away from hers, fearing I might be revealing too much but unable to not tell her how amazed I was by her. "It's like you hear the things I'm not saying. Like you always know what I'm thinking."

"That's funny you say that, because I feel the same way about you. Like you can see right through me."

It was an interesting choice of words, but I didn't expand on the comment.

She came around the side of the piano and sat down next to me on the bench. "Do you write music?"

"A little," I admitted. "Not much. I fiddle around with things I hear in my head. Nothing's ever presented itself as a full, complete song though."

"Play something you wrote."

I wet my lips, thinking about the song that had been stuck in my head over the last few weeks since I'd met her. It was so basic, just the skeleton of a full piece, but I was unable to stop my fingers from playing. It only had two sections so far, and proved to be rather short when I played it out straight without my usual tinkering. But the emotion I felt as I played it for her was unmistakable. Having her next to me as I played the piece she had inspired sent a shock of electricity through me that I'd never felt before.

"That's beautiful," she sighed. "What do you call that?"

"I haven't named it yet," I said, unable to look at her for fear she would see how affected I was by the very nearness of her.

"Have you been working on it long?" she asked.

"Nope." I ran my fingers over the keys out of nervousness. "It's just something I've had in my head… for the last few weeks." Slowly, I turned my head and looked up into her face, knowing it would only take a moment for her to understand what I was really trying to say.

She blinked, and then blushed in realization. "I see." She scooted closer to me so that our sides were touching. "It's kind of short. Is there any more to it?"

"Not yet. I have some ideas though," I answered, daring to touch her hand and gently stroke her skin with my thumb. "I'm kind of waiting to see if I should add to it… or if I even have the right ending."

"Ending?" she sounded surprised. "Couldn't it be one of those pieces with a really happy ending?"

"Well, that's up to you," I stated boldly.

Her eyes spoke volumes as she looked up at me. Her face was full of hope and light and all the joy the future could bring. But would I ruin that for her? Would being with someone like me – someone with so much pain in my history, so much dishonesty, so many inhuman qualities – spoil that for her? I wanted her to be happy in life. She'd already changed me in ways I didn't even realize, and I would forever be grateful for that. But was I willing to risk everything and possibly change her in the process?

"Jason," she said, leaning close to me.

How could I resist her when she said my name that way? How could I fight the feelings that had been building up in me for weeks now? How could I ever say no to this amazing woman who was like a gift from God above?

I couldn't.

I kissed her, delighting in the feel of her mouth against mine. My fingers found their way to her neck, and I held her in place as I deepened the kiss. Her arms wrapped around me, hugging me to her as best as she could in our seated position. I slowly dragged my mouth over hers repeatedly, holding on to the moment for as long as I could, knowing that from this point on I wouldn't be the same person. I would never again just be Jason. I would be Jason, the man who was in love with Kate. I only hoped that she wouldn't get hurt along the way.

She sighed, breaking away from the kiss, and buried her face against my shoulder. "You were right," she mumbled.

"About what?" I asked, kissing the top of her head.

"I swooned."

I couldn't help but laugh at her.

"It's not funny," she scolded.

"I'm sorry," I said, still laughing a little. "If it's any consolation," I tilted her face up so that I could look her in the eyes, "you had me feeling like that from the first moment I saw you."

Our gazes locked and the air was charged with the emotion passing between us. Our mouths met again, but this time there was something else there, something more, something needful. A need that would only grow and build as time passed. A need that I knew only she could satisfy. A need that left me trembling both from the desire to have her and from the fear of hurting her.


	21. Age 19 part three: Three Little Words

_AN: I've had this done for a while now, but I've been very busy this last week or so with guests and life in general. So I'm sorry it took me a while to post this. That said, I'm a little nervous about posting it given the fact that I'm so far into Jason and Kate that there really isn't much Superman in this or the next two chapters. I hate it when authors go on about reviews, but I feel my sad little Jason epic was over looked last chapter. I know, get over it, right? But to put it into perspective for you, after two weeks I barely broke into double digits with the reviews for the last chapter. On the flip side of that, my Twilight story, which is popular for the sake of being popular I think, has been posted for not even 72 hours and has 114 reviews for that one single chapter! LOL! And I feel INFENENTLY more connected to my Jason fic than I do my Twilight fic. So, I hope people aren't turning away now that I've taken a step away from the angsty Jason and Supes relationship a bit. How many times did you all tell me Jason needed something good to happen to him? Now that I've done that, I had to go and mess things up a bit just to hold your interest! So don't hate me for this. A very popular author told me that no one wants to read about happiness. It's angst that sells books! LOL! ___

_Many thanks, as always, to_ htbthomas, and hellish red devil _for all their help on the beta read for this. And many thanks to those of you who reviewed the last chapter:_ elliania, ecabs, 7crazyread, heartnut, ellalou73,_ Arhazivory, gatemaker06, Louise, katbaby, Shadeslayer390, moonlight234, and Trekkie6._

**Age 19 part three: Three Little Words**

It's amazing how much you can learn about another person in the space of a month or so. I learned that Kate bites her nails when she watches television and then complains later that she needs a manicure. She orders the same chicken salad sandwich from the same deli two or three times a week. She uses pencils as hairclips. She doesn't like to wear socks if she can avoid it, even in the dead of winter. And she is very picky about where things go – everything has its place.

"Lose everything that's important to you in a fire and you quickly learn to treasure every spoon, photo, and knickknack you own," she once said to me in defense of her obsessive ways. I couldn't really argue with that one.

But there were things that I was tempted to argue with her about. Like the fact that her favorite color was blue. I couldn't change her favorite color, but did she have to force it on me? She loved my eyes because they were blue. I didn't like them much because I knew from whom I had inherited them. She always wanted me to wear blue, and even went so far as to buy me a blue shirt once. I didn't have the heart to tell her that I _never_ wore blue. Blue or red. Those were _his_ colors, not mine. But I took the shirt, and I reluctantly wore it… once.

And then there was the fact that I was always supposed to guess just how far was too far when we would kiss. I knew something had happened to her in her past, given those first few conversations I had heard. Someone had hurt her in some way once upon a time, but she never told me any details. She would just pull away at random moments. The worst would be when she would initiate the kissing. She would get me all riled up and then sigh heavily and turn away from me. I didn't pressure her for anything more because I was constantly afraid I could really hurt her, but still, she shouldn't have been tempting me like that if she had no intention of following through. We were both keeping something back from each other. I only hoped that her reason for holding back wasn't anywhere near as bad as mine.

But I think the thing that drove me the most insane was the very thing that drew me to her. She _knew_ me. She knew things about me that no one knew. Things I didn't want to talk about or deal with, ever. Not specifics, just generalizations. And she wouldn't leave it alone. She was constantly asking me what was wrong, and would call me out when I told her nothing was. She could pick up on the smallest detail and turn it into something major.

Take flying, for example. I told her my Dad was a pilot and when she started talking about how much she loved flying, she noticed that I flinched. I didn't mean to, but she noticed. Noticing meant she would ask me about it.

"You don't like to fly?" she asked.

"Flying is fine," I said, but it didn't convince Kate.

"How can you not like to fly when your dad is a pilot?"

I couldn't very well tell her that my issues with flying went far beyond the confines of an airplane. Still, she wouldn't let it go and asked me if someone I knew died in a plane crash. Did I get airsick? Had there been a bad incident with turbulence that had scared me when I was little? I knew she was asking because she cared, but I just wanted her to let it go. I ended up telling her that I felt a lot of pressure to become a pilot – to learn how to fly – and since I never did, I felt badly about it. It was the closest thing to the truth I could offer her, and she seemed to believe me.

My overly high body temperature was another issue. Was I sick? Did I need to go to the doctor? Did I need a cool bath? I explained to her that I was sick as a child and that I still had a few lingering issues, a higher body temperature being one of them. She didn't believe that one as quickly as she did some of my other stories, but she came to accept it.

But the most bothersome issue she picked away at was something she "just can't put her finger on," as I'd recently heard her say to her roommate. Something that troubled me, and she was determined to find out what it was. I hoped to God she never did, but knowing Kate, she wouldn't give up until she knew everything. I knew I'd have to tell her at some point. Things were progressing so quickly between us, it was only a matter of time before I either had to tell her or leave her. I wasn't sure how I would do either one of those things. So until then, I tried to appease her questions with as truthful a statement as I could.

I managed to not complain, and I was grateful for every moment I had with her regardless of the frustration I felt at not being one hundred percent open with her. Even the fact that I loved her was a secret. I'd fallen so fast and so hard I figured she would think I was giving her a line if I told her. Since I wasn't sure what had happened to her in past relationships, I wasn't sure if falling in love was even something she wanted right now. Being her boyfriend was enough so far. I didn't want to push it and risk losing her over something like this. Even more than that, if I did have to leave her to keep her safe, it would be easier if we'd never said those things to each other. It would be easier for her if she didn't know how deeply I felt for her.

And so, with the holidays looming in front of us, I had agreed to go to Virginia for Thanksgiving to meet her family. News that I would not be joining my parents that day upset Mom to a degree, but I promised her that Kate and I would be in Metropolis for Christmas. We were meeting each other's parents. That in and of itself spoke volumes of the progress our relationship had made.

A week before Thanksgiving, Kate surprised me by renting a movie and bringing deli sandwiches to my apartment for dinner; chicken salad for her, naturally, and veggie lovers for me. It wasn't really a surprise though. We stayed in most nights, anyway. It was easier to cuddle and kiss and touch each other if we were in the privacy of one of our own apartments.

"When you meet my mother," I said, giving Kate a kiss on the cheek, "don't tell her I actually like vegetables. Okay?"

She chuckled. "Why not?"

"Because she stuffed health food down my throat for most of my life. I would hate for her to know that I've come to like some of it."

She laughed at me and headed for my bedroom.

"Where are you going?" I asked out of surprise.

"Can't we eat and watch TV in your room?" she said rather innocently.

I hesitated, but said, "Okay."

The only place to sit in there was on my bed, and she made herself rather comfortable, propped up against the headboard with her sandwich in her lap. I sat beside her, and once the food was gone, she ended up in my arms. As good as it felt to be there with her like that, it also made my insides squirm in nervousness at the potential of the situation.

The film she selected was "Shine."

"It's about a guy who goes crazy from playing the piano," she explained.

"And you want me to watch this… why?" I asked suspiciously.

"Because I thought you might like it. It's the one I told you about – the one with the _Rach 3_."

And so we sat, curled up against one another, watching a depressing film about a poor, abused, but talented Australian boy who was, in fact, a little crazy. As much as I hated to admit it, the music in the film was brilliant. I thoroughly enjoyed the music and found myself drawn into a certain romantic mood by some of the pieces. It wasn't difficult with Kate in my arms, her skin so soft and her hair smelling like wild flowers. The sweater she wore drooped off one shoulder, baring the tantalizing skin there, tempting me to touch her. The music would swell and I would unknowingly pull her closer and drop kisses on her neck and shoulder.

"Hey, cut it out. Watch the movie," she scolded.

The film continued to the point where the kid went to college and performed the hell out of the "Rach 3," all in a pointless attempt to please his father. He didn't succeed, and he went mad in the process. His relationship with his father was strained and they saw little of each other for years. The plot, wretched as it was, started to hit a little too close to home for me. It made me wonder just why she wanted me to see this film, especially when the "Prelude in C Sharp" was featured as the man's lowest of low points. What did Kate know? More than that, _how_ did she know?

Surprisingly, the plot took a turn for the better and the man found some happiness playing in a restaurant. "Flight of the Bumblebee" signaled his breakthrough moment.

"Can you play that?" she asked after the song.

"Nope, but then I've never tried."

She turned to look at me. "Can you try? For me? I love that song."

"I can ask. My teacher doesn't like pieces that are overplayed though, so he might say no. But it is a Rachmaninov, and he loves the Russians."

She twisted around to kiss me, pulling my face down to hers and slowly dragging her lips over mine, before directing her attention back to the movie. _My_ attention, however, was completely focused on her. I kissed the side of her neck and ran my fingers along her side, tugging on her sweater to pull it up slightly so I could feel the warm skin of her stomach.

"Jason," she whined. "Come on."

"What's the matter?" I said, tasting the sweet skin of her smooth neck.

She shifted away from me slightly. "Cut it out, okay? Just watch the movie."

I huffed and flopped back against the headboard, turning my face away from her. I shook my head, still unable to figure her out.

"What's that for?" she asked.

"What's what for?" I replied a little more harshly than I should have.

"That growl. That whole shaking your head thing."

"I didn't growl."

"You growled."

"I'm frustrated."

"Frustrated?" She sounded completely unaware of my current physical situation.

"Yes, Kate, frustrated!"

"Because of me?"

"No. I'm frustrated by the slow delivery of the mail around here. Yes, you! Who else is kissing me and turning me on and then pushing me away?" Probably not the mailman…

She gaped at me. "What? I am notdoing that!"

"Yes, you are."

"I kissed you, and that was it!"

"It's been a lot more than that, Kate."

She frowned at me. "Not from me, though. You're the one who's had his hands all over me all night long."

"I like to touch you, and you've had _your_ hands on me in the past," I countered.

"But not tonight!" she corrected. "Tonight we were just going to watch a movie."

I shifted on the bed to look at her better. "Just. Just sit here?"

"Yes."

"Then why did you pick to sit in my bedroom? Why not out on the sofa where we normally watch TV? Why in here on my bed with the door closed?"

Her eyes shifted away from mine for a second. "Because I didn't want Lance coming in here and interrupting us."

"Interrupting us doing what?" I pressed. "Watching a movie?"

"Yes."

"Right, because Lance would really be interested in a morbid and depressing psychological drama about a pianist. That's just his cup of tea."

She scowled. "I didn't want him to come in, as he has in the past, and start talking to us about some random girl and did she call and is there anything in the house to eat! He does it all the time! I thought if we were in here, he'd leave us alone and we could watch the movie in peace."

"Okay, so why did you dress like that?"

She looked down at herself. "Like what?"

"In that sexy little sweater that falls off your shoulder?"

Again she looked completely surprised by my accusation. "It's just a sweater."

"Right. And I suppose this is just a film that you picked for fun."

"I picked it because I thought you'd like it," she stated evenly.

"You thought I'd get a kick out of watching some guy get picked on and torn up by his family, lose his mind and everything that's important to him, and end up in a mental institution? Thanks, but that's not my idea of a good time."

She sneered at me. "I picked it because of the music!"

"You could have picked 'Amadeus' for the same reason, and that movie is hilarious."

"Hilarious… that Mozart dies penniless at the end and the other guy… um…um…"

"Salieri."

"Yes, him. He ends up in a mental institution after trying to commit suicide! Is that your idea of a good time?" she challenged.

"All right, so most musicians have some sort of a tragic life. What's your point then?"

"My point?"

"You're point in making me sit though _this _particular film."

"There was no point. I thought it was just something that would appeal to the both of us. There's beautiful music for you and the psychology of the family dynamic for me."

"And a lot of depressing shit in between," I said nastily.

She stared at me for a second, and I could almost feel her anger. "What's with you tonight?"

"What's with _you_?" I countered. "I know there was an ulterior motive to you picking this film. I'm just waiting for you to own up to it."

"And what do you think that is?"

"That… there's something wrong with me. That I have some kind of psychological problem, like this crazy guy."

"You know what, I didn't even think about that. I honestly just picked the film because of the music. But now that you mention it, yes, there is something there, Jason."

"Something?" I growled.

"There is something inside of you that is dark and heavy and immovable. Something you're not sharing with me, and I don't know why."

"So you _do_ think I'm messed up," I huffed.

"I think there's something you're hiding from me about your past that causes you pain."

"And you're gonna fix it, I suppose." I scoffed. "You know, Kate, you're not my psychiatrist; you're my girlfriend. I don't need you to fix me."

Her frown deepened. "Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what? I'm just telling you how I feel. And you know damn good and well that I'm not the only one keeping secrets in this relationship."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Why do you keep pushing me away, Kate? Every time we get close, you push me away. You lead me on, and then expect me to shut it off as soon as you're uncomfortable."

"You know, I thought you were different." She slid off the bed. "I thought you weren't like all those other guys who only want to have sex and no relationship."

"Now hang on a minute," I said, standing up. "We _do_ have a relationship, and I _am_ interested in that, but I'm interested in other things, too. I'm not a monk, Kate."

She stopped the movie and ejected the DVD from the player. "I never said you were. And we _have_ done some things. Or maybe I was just imagining that." She turned her back to me, still messing with the DVD.

"Oh, we have, I'll grant you that. But I'm a little confused over how far is too far. Sometimes you don't mind if I touch you, other times you tell me it's too much. Now, I know that something happened to you in your past. I know there was some guy that hurt you."

She spun around to face me. "What?" Surprise and a hint of fear flashed in her eyes. "Who told you?"

"No one told me anything, but give me some credit, will you, for realizing that something _did _happen to you. I've been waiting for you to explain it to me – to tell me just what I am allowed to do and where to draw the line, but you seem to just want me to guess. Well, I'm tired of it. I'm tired of guessing. If you want me to be honest with you about this so-called 'darkness' that's in me, then you need start talking about your past, too. The door swings both ways."

"You told me it was all right if we didn't rush into things."

That was the truth. I was still worried I could really hurt her, but I was at least willing to try. I loved her and wanted her too much to never at least try. "We don't have to rush. I have my own reasons for that, but I'd at least like to know what your reasons are, especially if they are as bad as I think they are."

She shook her head. "You wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

She bit her lip. "You first."

"What?" I frowned.

"You tell me why you don't like to talk about your past. Why anytime I tell you what a wonderful person you are, you scoff at me and tell me that you aren't. Why I hear such sadness in your music. Even the happier pieces have a darkness to them. It's like they mock you with their joy. Why is that, Jason?"

I didn't want to answer her. So I changed the direction of the argument again. "I knew you had a reason for picking that film. I thought you were supposed to be able to get people to talk. If you wanted to get something out of me, you didn't have to make me sit though such a wretched movie."

"This isn't about the damn movie!" she yelled. "And if you had given it a chance, you would have seen that things _do_ turn around for him. He was just about to meet a woman who helps him work though some issues. A woman who loves him and helps him find himself again. It does have a happy ending."

"Oh, so is that what this is? I'm supposed to draw some parallel between his crazy life and mine? I suppose you're the woman who's going to save me. That's kind of hard to do when you can't even accept me just the way I am."

I regretted it the moment I said it.

Kate grabbed up her things and stormed out of my room. I followed her in time to see her as she slipped on her coat.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"Home. I can't stay here with you." She swung her bag over her shoulder and headed for the door.

"Wait, Kate. Don't. I—I—"

She turned around to face me, and I could see that there were unshed tears in her eyes. "For the record, I do accept you for who you are. No," she shook her head. "It's more than that. I _love_ you for who you are. I only wanted to help you. That's what people do when they love someone. But I can't stay here and argue with you – not if you're going to accuse me of trying to practice psychology on you as if my only interest in you is for educational reasons. I had thought that you understood you meant more to me than that. I guess I was wrong."

She turned away.

"Kate," I said, feeling my heart plummet into my stomach.

"Goodbye, Jason."

"Kate, wait a second," I called to her as she walked away. "Kate!"

She didn't turn around. She just kept walking.


	22. Age 19 part four: Not So Naked Truth

_AN: I know many of you were caught off guard by the last chapter – that you weren't expecting all the angst. I am trying to show that their relationship is real and just as flawed as every relationship is, so thank you to those of your who said as much in your reviews. There are obviously obstacles to overcome, and we're almost over the final hurdle, so just hang with me a little while longer. I'm hoping to be caught up to ItSomF after the next chapter, at which point I will go through that entire fic and make sure everything matches up. So if you are tempted to reread it, you might want to wait a week or so. _

_I've also had many people asking if this story will be finished once I am caught up with ItSomF. No. What will happen is that the next chapter will be the set up to ItSomF. Then the following chapter will pick up directly after chapter 9 of ItSomF when Clark and Jason have their big talk. Then I will go through his wedding and the birth of Eric, which are both mentioned in ItSomF. I have plans for this story line to continue at least until Jason is 27. So please don't ready yourself to be done with me 'cause I'm not done with Jason yet. _

_Many thanks to htbthomas and mithah for not only beta reading, but also liking this chapter so much that it eased my nerves about posting it. Thanks to those who reviewed: elliana, ellalou73, 7crazyread, loliann, ecabs, katshakespeare, Elinor, Saiyagirl, Sean Montgomery, katbaby, vouge09, Arhazivory, Eveline, lauraart123, Louise, 4ever1, Shadeslayer 390, cdog21, Moonlight234, miss mckenna, Trekkie6, Butterscotch82, fenice, heartnut, and Elolinone. You all have made this one of, if not my top reviewed chapter proving that angst is more interesting than happiness! And a final thanks to Kon-El for taking over some of my massive plot bunnies and encouraging me to breed more of them! _

_Word of caution, this chapter is HEAVY on the Pg-13 side. _

**Age 19 part four: Not So Naked Truth**

What had just happened?

The question repeated itself over and over in my head. What had happened? What had I said? What had I_ done_? Had I really said those awful things? Had I really just blown up at her and picked a fight over something as stupid and as trivial as a movie?

Had I heard her correctly? Had she said that she _loved_ me?

And was she really gone? Did this mean she was gone for good? That it was over?

I couldn't fathom it. It was incomprehensible. She loved me and I was a total jerk and pushed her away. Angry at myself for being so stupid and crass, I slammed the door, rattling the walls of the apartment and knocking a few things off the nearby shelf.

My anger was intense, and I felt an uncomfortable pang behind my eyes. I instinctively squeezed my eyes shut as tight as I could and covered them with the palms of my hands. Perfect. Just what I needed right now -- a burning reminder that I would never truly be able to have a normal relationship with anyone.

I flopped down on the couch, breathing hard and feeling my heart racing in my chest. The pressure behind my eyes lessened, but I still felt the rage. I covered my face with my arms, grabbing my hair at the back of my head and thinking I was so furious with myself that I could rip out every strand. I'd brought this on myself. I was so worried and so ashamed to admit my own faults that I'd pushed and picked at her until I'd _made_ her leave me. Just like I'd done with Meredith in high school.

I thought long and hard about that – about Meredith. I had cared for her, even thought that maybe I was in love with her. But I knew now that I was infatuated with her more than anything. She was sweet and gentle and kind… but she wasn't Kate. What I felt for Kate was different. I felt whole – complete – like I belonged. I'd lost Meredith, but I was not going to lose Kate.

If I had to grovel and beg and plead with her, I would. If I had to admit to her that I was a jerk and a cretin and full-out asshole, I would. I would tell her whatever I needed to say to get her back. I couldn't lose her. Not like this. I'd tell her… I'd tell her…

I'd tell her I loved her. She'd said she loved me. I _knew_ I loved her; I just needed to tell her so she wouldn't give up on me.

I flung open the door and ran out into the cold night to find her. She couldn't have gotten that far away yet. And I was infinitely quicker than she was. I reached out with my hearing and found the familiar sound of her small feet on the pavement just around the corner and down the block from me. Not even bothering to check to make sure no one was watching me, I darted off toward her more quickly than I should have, but I didn't care. The sooner I apologized to her, the less time she had to be angry with me.

I spotted her as I rounded the corner and called her name loudly. "KATE!"

She did not stop walking.

"KATE!" I was behind her now.

"Just let me go home, Jason."

"No," I said, bounding around her and making her come to a full stop. "No, you're not going home until you hear what I have to say."

She huffed. "I think I've heard enough."

"I'm sorry," I blurted out. "I'm sorry."

She blinked at me, and I could tell that she didn't quite believe me.

"I'm sorry," I repeated softly. "I was a jerk. I was rotten. I was awful." I took a deep breath, watching her expression carefully, and forged on. "I behaved like a bastard… which is part of my problem."

She frowned in confusion.

"I'm sorry," I said again, begging her with my eyes to forgive me. "Please, let's… talk. Let's do whatever we need to do to work this out. Please." I stepped closer to her and placed my hands on her shoulders. "_Please_."

She looked up at me skeptically. "You can't just start snapping at me the minute I say something that you don't like."

"I know."

"And you can't accuse me of just wanting to analyze your psyche. I know that's my major, but I do care about you, and I'd want to know what's bothering you even if I wasn't studying it."

"I know."

She cocked her head. "Do you? Honestly?"

"Yes," I reassured, holding fast to her gaze. "But it's a two-way street, Kate. You have to be willing to tell me what's bothering you, too."

She looked away, thinking hard, and shifted the bag slung over her shoulder.

"Here, let me take that," I offered, slipping it down her arm.

"Thanks." It was a small step, but at least my efforts thus far had earned me a smile.

"Now, let's go back to my place…"

She scowled.

"… or we could go to your apartment. Wherever you feel more comfortable so we can talk."

She pursed her lips, still thinking.

"Please, Kate. Don't give up on me."

"I'm not giving up on you, Jason. I just worry that… you won't like what I have to say."

She was probably right. "Well, no one likes being told they have psychological problems."

"I wasn't talking about you. I was talking about me. I'm worried that you won't like what I have to tell you… about _me_."

It did worry me, but I couldn't show her that. "Impossible," I stated. "There isn't anything you could say that would change my mind about how I feel about you."

Her eyes met mine and I could sense a challenge there. As if she honestly thought her past was worse than mine. I highly doubted that, but I wouldn't know until she told me. After a brief, yet tense moment, she turned and signaled for me to follow her.

"Come on. You'll freeze out here without a coat on."

I smiled at the impossibility of her statement and followed her without hesitation.

We walked the short distance to her apartment and somehow managed to slip past her roommates without much notice. Once we were in her room, she shrugged out of her coat, and sat down on the edge of the bed. Uncertain of myself, I remained standing.

"So," she sighed.

"I guess I should go first, huh?" I offered.

She shifted, bringing one leg up and under her while the other one dangled off the edge, and then patted the space next to her for me to sit down. I sat down not knowing exactly what I would say. What _could_ I say? How do you tell someone you love that you've been lying to them since day one? And how much of the truth are you supposed to give? All of it? No. I didn't think I could go that far. But I at least could tell her some of it. I could own up to a few of my real problems, but certainly not the main issue.

I could tell her something I'd never talked about with anyone. Something that I didn't even like to think about myself.

I swallowed hard and started in. "You want to know what bothers me – what happened to me in my past that makes me sad, right?"

She nodded.

"Well, it isn't so much of anything that happened_ to _me. It's more like the fact that... _I _happened. That I'm here. Because… I wasn't supposed to be."

"I don't understand," she said with a frown.

"I am the epitome – the walking definition of the word 'oops.'" I couldn't look at her as I spoke, for this was one thing I'd avoided talking about with anyone, most especially my parents. "You know when people have a baby and they say it was a 'happy accident' because they didn't exactly plan to get pregnant, but they still loved the baby and went ahead and had it because they did want a baby at some point in their lives? Well, that isn't what happened with me. There wasn't anything 'happy' about my mom accidentally getting pregnant."

"How do you know that?" Kate asked softly.

"Because I've been told so. Because I can do the math and put two and two together." I focused on my hands as I spoke, still unable to look Kate in the eyes. "My mom and dad had only known each other a really short time when I came along." I was talking about Mom and Richard at this point, but I knew that the story would be blurred between Mom and _him_ sooner or later. "They both had really powerful positions in their jobs, both with highly advanced, fast paced careers. Dad wasn't even living in Metropolis at the time. He was only here to help cover a story. And Mom – she was at the top of her game. Star reporter, cutting edge work. My Aunt Lucy laughs when she talks about it. She smiles and winks at me, as if I should enjoy the joke. 'Lois always hated people with families. She hated people who settled down and had kids and bought a house and went to Disney World for vacations.' Like I'm supposed to find it funny that having me was against everything my mother ever wanted in life."

I took a deep breath and chanced a glance over at Kate. She looked very concerned with her brows knit together and her lips pressed tightly. "But Jason," she said softly, "your parents are married and they care about you, so… didn't it all work out okay?"

Far from it! But I couldn't tell her exactly how far off it was. "Kate, I was seven years old when my mom and dad were married. Seven. I walked my mom down the aisle. A while later, I was talking to some kids at school about getting to do that and one of the older kids listening in informed me, for the first time, that I was a bastard. And as I've grown up and come to understand physical relationships and one-night-stands, I realize just how big of a mistake I really was. For all intents and purposes, I was never even supposed to be born."

"Stop that," she snapped suddenly. "Don't talk that way. I don't want to hear that." Her eyes were fierce and her expression sad.

"I'm sorry Kate, but it's the truth."

"No," she said forcefully. "No, it's not. I don't believe that for one second. You're here because you were supposed to be here. We all are here for a reason."

I sighed. "It's difficult for me to think that way, considering the circumstances of my birth. I would like to believe that, but I've grown up knowing just the opposite."

"Well, you'll never convince me of that."

I probably wouldn't, and it did my heart some good to hear her say so. If I could tell her about the things Jor-El had said to me all those years ago, then maybe she would believe me. After all, according to Kryptonian science, I was a walking impossibility. Even now, years later, I could still hear Jor-El's authoritative voice pounding in my head. _To even suggest such a hybrid is unfathomable. _I wasn't sure which word I hated more --bastard or hybrid. They both left a bitter taste in my mouth. However, I couldn't explain this to Kate. I wasn't sure if I'd ever be able to explain it to her.

"When you say that you think I'm a good person, that you love me," I paused, waiting for her to correct me and tell me I misunderstood her words, but no correction came, "I have to think to myself… why? How? How can someone so amazing and special like you, love someone who was never supposed to be born? I'm too… damaged."

"Now there you absolutely are wrong," she stated, looking me in the eyes. "For the record, everyone is damaged, including me. Don't put me up on some pedestal, Jason. I'm just as messed up as the next person. Even still, I've never met anyone too far gone that they can't get some help. You are worthy of love, Jason." Her gaze drifted down to a spot on the bedspread. "I just wish I was better at showing you how I feel."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

She looked up at me for a moment and then back down to the spot her fingers were now picking away at. "I told you that I usually avoid telling guys that I'm a psych major for fear that they will run screaming from me, right?"

"Right."

"Well, if that doesn't scare them away, then the fact that I don't like sex certainly does the trick."

Her statement totally threw me off guard for a moment and I actually had to replay it in my mind before I realized what she had said. "You don't… like… sex?" I stammered.

She shook her head. "At least not so far, which of course is usually followed by the very obvious suggestion that maybe I just haven't met the right guy."

I wasn't too sure what I was supposed to say – what I supposed to do with that information. "Can you at least tell me why… you don't… like it?" I fumbled, trying to gather more information without sounding like a desperate man.

"It just doesn't feel good," she admitted softly. "Nothing ever really felt good… until I met you," she added gently.

I swallowed hard, uncertain of how to proceed. It was good to know that so far she'd enjoyed being with me, but when it came right down to it, the most we had done was heavy kissing and a few hesitant touches. She had sat on my lap once, and I knew she felt my reaction to her sitting there, but times like that were few and far between. I wondered if the things I had done only felt good to her once in a while.

"So, you do… like… being with me?" I pressed.

"Very much," she confirmed to my relief. "I want, more than anything, to show you how much, but I get tense and afraid and… then I can't."

"Did someone… hurt you?" The idea made me sick to my stomach.

She pursed her lips. "It isn't what you think."

"It isn't?"

"You think someone raped me, right?"

I couldn't answer that. My hands balled up into fists upon hearing the word.

"It wasn't like that. Not really. It wasn't very good, but it wasn't rape. Not technically."

I did not like the way this sounded at all.

"David and I dated all through our junior year of high school. He was always nice, but he was more of a jock. I know now that I was the pretty arm candy for his public life, but he never really mistreated me. When we went to junior prom together, he assumed I'd sleep with him. As much as I thought I was in love with him, I just couldn't. I didn't want my first time to be at some cheap hotel after the prom. I wanted something more than that. So he waited, and I thought that was a sign of how much he cared for me."

She took a deep breath and went on. "We dated through the summer, and he was still pressuring me, but it wasn't until our senior year that he really laid it on. He gave me all the typical lines. 'If you love me, you'll sleep with me. Everyone is doing it. I'll be careful.' And you know how it is. All my friends had been with their boyfriends, so I was feeling like the odd one out. Even my girlfriends started bothering me about it. So one weekend when his parents were away, we did it."

She sighed heavily. "He rented a chick flick to get me in the mood and then undressed me right there in the basement in front of the big screen TV." She shuddered visibly and I nearly came out of my skin in anger. "It was over in about five minutes, and I was left wondering what happened. I didn't like it at all. He was rough – didn't take any care at all that it was my first time – and it hurt. He told me he was sorry – that he should have been more gentle, but he said that no one had a good first time and promised me that it would be better next time."

"Next time?" I blurted out, both in anger and in surprise.

She looked up at me with a rueful smile. "You'd think I would have been smart enough to see through it. But no. I fell for it three more times, and each time was worse than before. I thought something was wrong with me, because all my friends always went on about how good it felt. For me, it was always awful. But then, I had only been with one person, so I could still believe that it wasn't just me."

My stomach flip-flopped. I'd always assumed that someone had hurt her, so I had tried to ready myself for it, but actually knowing the details was more upsetting than I was expecting. I felt a very powerful urge to go out and find this David person and take my anger out on him.

"I've never really had the chance to test that theory, though," Kate continued, drawing me out of my elaborate plans to hunt down the monster that had hurt her. "Every guy I dated after that – when they would get close to me, I would shy away. I would let a guy kiss me good night and maybe even a little more, but it never felt right. All I could think was that they wanted more and I didn't want to give them anything more. One guy back at Virginia State College got so upset with me when I didn't invite him in my apartment after our date that he started badgering me. He'd leave messages on my phone saying how I owed him a good one. He'd text me or e-mail me ten or twelve times a day with rude messages. He went so far as to interrupt my next date to tell the guy I was with that I was frigid and a tease. He was like a stalker, and he wouldn't leave me alone. So when the semester ended, I told my dad that I wanted to switch schools. That's why I moved to Metropolis."

The pieces of the puzzle were slowly clicking into place. I had assumed that the boyfriend who had hurt her was the same man she moved to Metropolis to get away from, but the fact was that there were two different men, an option I had overlooked. I was glad that I understood now, and yet that much more upset that Kate had ever been mistreated by these poor excuses for human beings.

But something didn't quite fit. "Then why did you kiss me after our first date? If you like to go a bit slower, why did you kiss me?"

"Because I really liked you. I _wanted_ to kiss you. And I'm so glad I did, but it makes sense that you're confused by it. I know— I just— I feel so different when I'm with you." She covered her face with her hands out of embarrassment.

It was then that I started to realize I was just as bad as the men who had come before me, given the things I'd said to her earlier.

"You must hate me," I mumbled.

Kate frowned. "Why?"

"Because I said the same thing that other guy said – that you were teasing me."

She scooted closer to me and placed her hand over mine. "You were right to call me out on that. I _was_ teasing you, even if I didn't mean to do it. I shouldn't have led you on like that."

"But Kate—"

"No, listen to me," she stopped me. "What I feel when I'm with you is unlike anything I've ever felt before. When I'm with you and you kiss me… when you touch me," her voice dropped to a near whisper, "I want more. You're so gentle and loving and I just want to forget everything I know and give in to those feelings, but I can't. My brain freezes and I start to worry that if I make love to you, it will prove what I thought before – that it_ is_ just me. And I don't want to disappoint you."

"Disappoint _me_?" I said, taken aback. "How would you disappoint me?"

"Because I know how patient you're being," she said without meeting my eyes. "You probably think I'm crazy for wanting to wait. Maybe I _am _crazy…" She chuckled self-consciously.

A part of me wanted to grab her and shake some sense into her for feeling like that, but instead, I moved close enough to her so that I could gently take her face in my hands. "Kate, you are the most sane person I know," I declared, drawing her gaze up to mine. "Well, aside from a very peculiar chicken salad fetish that I don't think I'll ever understand." A small laugh escaped her. "I shouldn't make jokes, I know, but I mean it when I say that you have every right to ask me to slow down. I'm not in as much of a rush as you think I am." I brushed the back of my fingers along her pink cheek and played with a few strands of her golden hair.

"But you do want to," she paused, "be with me…" The end of the sentence drifted off like an unfinished question.

I could hear her heart pounding away in her chest. It was so strong that my own heart matched its rhythm. "I feel like a real idiot for not saying this before. I had the chance and I didn't take it. Now, I'm afraid that you'll think I'm just giving you a line, like your first boyfriend."

"What do you mean?"

"I— I want— I— " Growling at myself in frustration for my sudden case of nerves, I took a deep breath and pressed on. "I'm in love with you."

Kate smiled. "Really?"

"Really," I confirmed. "From almost the moment I saw you, and I swear to you that I'm being totally honest. I couldn't take my eyes off of you – couldn't stop thinking about you. I hate that someone hurt you in the past, and I hate myself even more for what I said back at my apartment. When you walked out… those were the worst ten minutes of my life, and that's saying something because I've had a lot of bad moments. I don't ever want to feel like that again." I leaned in and rested my forehead against hers. "However long it takes, I can wait."

"Are you sure?" she asked softly, her mouth very close to mine.

I nodded, brushing my nose against hers. "In fact, there's something else I need to tell you." I was more nervous about admitting this to her than I was about almost anything else, aside from my true parentage. "One of the reasons I've been so patient up until now is because I didn't want to disappoint _you_. Now that I know what's happened to you in the past, I'm even more concerned than ever."

"Why is that?

"Because I don't want to hurt you," I said honestly. "I'm a lot stronger than I look, Kate, and I am so scared of hurting you, especially now that I know that you were…" I couldn't finish the thought it angered me so.

"What makes you think that you would hurt me?"

I rolled my eyes. "Your other boyfriend hurt you."

"But you aren't anything like him! Everything about the way you touch me is completely different. You're always so gentle." She gasped suddenly and sat back to look more directly at me. "Did you have a bad experience, too? Is that why you think…"

She stopped talking when I closed my eyes.

"You_ did_ have a bad experience, then, I take it," she said.

"No, I didn't. Not really. Not like yours at least. Not like…" I sighed, so unable to word it properly. "I've never really had a bad experience because…" My voice dropped to a whisper, "I've never really had _any_… experience."

I waited for the realization to dawn on her face, and when it did, her heart rate fluttered and her breathing stilled for a moment. Slowly, pausing between nearly every word, she said, "So you're saying that you've never… ever… with anyone…"

"Not all the way, no. I mean, I've dated and I've had a serious girlfriend before. It's not like I'm completely innocent, but I've never… completely… you know." My face was so hot I was certain I was bright red.

Kate blinked, obviously thinking it over carefully.

"You don't believe me, do you?" I asked.

"Well," she hesitated, "I do, I guess, but it's difficult. You're so…"

I waited with worry over what would come next.

"… attractive, and intelligent, and talented. I've been so flattered that you're interested in me because, from where I stand, it seems you could have your pick of women."

I laughed out loud at her conclusion.

"Why is that funny?"

"Because, Kate, don't you remember when we first met how nervous and jittery I was? It takes me a long time to work up the nerve to even talk to a girl I like, let alone actually ask her out on a date. Most of the dates I've been on have been with girls that Lance set me up with."

"Oh," she said. A smile formed on her beautiful face as she processed that information. "Lance's girls are always… um…"

"Yeah, I know," I finished for her, not wanting her to have to make any bad assumptions about me or the girls I'd dated previously. "That's why I was never seriously interested in any of them. Lance is a good guy, so I don't mean to sound like I'm putting him down. But given what I told you about myself earlier – that I'm the result of a casual relationship – and even though my parents did work it out, I'm not really interested in anything like that. I want… more."

She tilted her head and smiled up at me. "Are you for real? You're saying all the right things again."

I leaned forward, placing my hands on her waist. "Telling you I'm nervous about the possibility of making love to you because I don't know what I'm doing and I'm worried I'll botch it all up is the right thing to say?"

She giggled and wrapped her arms around me. "Yes. Right now it is."

We stayed like that for a few moments, our faces so close, our arms curled around each other. Kate's heart pounded out a solid, steady rhythm, which only stared to increase just before she spoke again.

"I love you," she breathed.

"I love you, too," I echoed, feeling the force of the words push all the way through my body. Her chin tilted until her lips brushed against mine slowly, gently. I pulled her closer to me and let my lips linger against hers, savoring the moment.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled against her mouth.

"I'm sorry, too. Apology accepted?"

"Absolutely."

She kissed me again, deeper and longer than before. "I promise I won't make you wait long. I want to be with you so much, Jason."

"It doesn't matter," I said, kissing her again. "I'll wait." Suddenly, I knew what I wanted to do to make this evening right. I pulled away and hopped off the bed to go over to her backpack. "I'll tell you what, as a peace offering and taking full responsibility for being a total ass, I would very much like to finish the movie."

"Oh, Jason, you don't have to watch it if you don't want to."

I slipped the DVD in the player and rejoined Kate on her bed. "I do want to. Truth be told, I was very much enjoying the music. And I've been pretty impressed at how well the actor has faked his way through some of the pieces."

I sat back against her headboard and held out my hand for her to join me. She snuggled up against my side and put her head down on my shoulder. It felt good having her there – it felt right. I was so comfortable with her leaning against me that I didn't even notice she had fallen asleep until the movie ended.

"Kate?" I murmured, trying to wake her up. "Kate?"

She only sighed and snuggled closer to me.

Taking care not to wake her up, I moved her so that she was lying down on the bed. It was easy, given the fact that she hardly weighed anything to me. I tucked the covers up and around her and kissed her cheek good-night before moving to stand up. Before my feet could hit the floor, Kate's hand snapped out from under the covers to find my arm.

"Don't go," she said, keeping her eyes closed.

"Kate, it's late. I should—"

"Stay." Her eyes fluttered open long enough for her to repeat the demand.

"But Kate—"

"Just sleep here tonight. Please."

My heart hammered away, begging me to say yes. I debated it for a moment, but figured that if I stayed on my side of the bed, nothing would happen. After the night we'd had, I wasn't about to take advantage of the situation and end up possibly hurting her again.

I crawled under the covers nervously. Kate's eyes were closed, but having her face so near to mine while I was lying down was a glorious experience. She was so lovely when she slept, and I hoped that this would be the first of many times I'd see her like that. I sunk into my pillow and waited for sleep to overtake me, but it was far too warm for me to be comfortable. I tugged my sweater off and dropped it on the floor beside the bed before finally falling asleep.

But my sleep wasn't as restful as I had hoped it would be. My dreams of a two-faced man and a woman who couldn't decide which face she liked best were strange, as was the sensation of something pressing against my arms. It was a repetitive pulse that I didn't quite understand. A voice in the distance called my name, forcing me closer to consciousness. I didn't want to wake up, wanting instead to solve the question of the perplexing dream. I couldn't feel any warmth in the air, which meant the sun wasn't up yet and my body naturally resisted against giving up on sleep just yet.

The pulse against my arm became more forceful, as did the voice calling my name. I recognized that it was female. Still being in that state of partial sleep, I assumed it was my mother calling me to get out of bed. She should have known better than to wake me up before dawn.

"Jason!" A forceful shove accompanied the voice.

My eyes snapped open to find Kate sitting up and staring down at me with a wide grin on her face.

"What's wrong?" I mumbled, rising up slightly from my prone position on my pillow.

"You talk in your sleep," she chuckled.

"I do?"

"You were saying something about faces and sunlight. When I tried to wake you up you told me you couldn't feel the sunlight."

My heart skipped a beat and I buried my head back in my pillow. "I was having a dream," I offered.

"It must have been one heck of a dream, 'cause you were really hard to wake up."

I glanced at her clock on the nightstand. "It's three in the morning, Kate. I think it would be hard to wake anyone up right now." My head sunk back into the cushion of my pillow.

Kate lowered her self to her pillow and smiled impishly at me. "You know, I've never spent the night with anyone before."

"But you said that you… had… with that guy…" I wasn't sure if it was my drowsiness or my confusion that made it so difficult for me to form the question.

"Oh, I did," she said regrettably, "but I didn't actually ever _sleep_ with him."

"I can't fathom that," I said, closing my eyes as a mix of frustration and anger washed over me.

"What do you mean?"

"How any man could make love to you and then walk away from you is beyond me." As I spoke, a yawn took over my body. I rolled onto my back and stretched my arms over my head. Relaxing back against the bed, I noticed that she was staring wide-eyed at my chest. "What?"

"I've never seen you without a shirt on."

"Oh, um… sorry." I instantly felt guilty for assuming she would be comfortable with me taking off my shirt. Reaching over the edge of the bed where I'd discarded the garment, I said, "I shouldn't have taken it off. Sorry."

Her hand on my bare side stopped me. "No, don't. It's okay."

I looked over my shoulder at her. Our eyes met and something in her face told me she meant it. I slowly lay back down, her hand remaining on my skin. Softly, she brushed her fingers over my chest in tiny circles. The charge that went through my body at such a simple touch was electric. She'd touched my skin under my shirt before, but this felt so different, being exposed and out in the open like this. It felt different with the length of her body touching mine as opposed to sitting next to her on the couch.

"You are so handsome, Jason," she murmured quietly.

Her fingers grew bolder as she explored my skin. My resolve to not rush things was quickly slipping away from me. As if she were testing my limits, she pressed a soft kiss on my shoulder. I shuddered and turned on my side, rising up on my elbow and shifting my hips as far from her as I could manage. After everything she'd told me tonight, the last thing I wanted to do was break my promise to her.

"Kate, I should probably go home."

"No. Please stay." She scooted closer to me.

"Kate—" I began to argue.

"I know," she whispered, wrapping her arms around me. "I know. And I'm telling you it's okay." Her leg snaked its way between mine.

"But I… I… I don't want…"

She kissed me and I completely lost thought of anything but the feel of her lips against mine. "I want this, Jason," she sighed into my mouth.

"Are you sure?" I asked, dragging my lips over hers and tasting her sweet breath.

She hummed a yes and kissed me again, fitting her body fully against mine. I was so lost in the sensations building up inside of me that I didn't hesitate to press intimately against her. We'd never been this close before, and all I could think of was being even closer. I wanted to be as close as two people could be.

"But only if you want to," she said, breaking away from me to look back at me.

I blinked, trying to pull my mind out of the fog it was in to form a coherent sentence. "Yes, I want to. Considering that I've pretty much been a walking erection since I met you… " I swallowed hard, instantly regretting my vulgar word choice.

To my delight, Kate laughed in reply. "Let's see if I can do anything to help you with that."


	23. Age 20: Before

_AN: No, I didn't fall off the planet. Yes, I am still writing this fic. I've had one heck of a busy summer and it doesn't look like it will slow down anytime soon. Even still, this chapter gave me problems. For those of you that are keeping track, I have reached the point where I am caught up with In the Shadow of my Father. This chapter happens right before chapter one of ItSoMF, hence the title, when Jason is just is just shy of 20 years old in one section and then shortly after his birthday in the second section. So I left it at age 20 because he's thinking about those two moments as he ponders asking Kate to marry him… which brings us up to the start of ItSoMF. Is everyone with me? LOL! As you finish this chapter, you should either read over chapters 1-9 of ItSoMF or at least check out chapter 9 to remind yourself where that stops. Then the next chapter of BJW will start just after chapter 9 of ItSoMF. Are you confused yet? _

_Thanks to htbthomas and hellish red devil for their support and beta reading abilities. I am a typo queen! And to van-el for spurring the plot bunnies and making my AU that much more insane._

_Also, if you missed it, I wrote a one-shot of Clark and Lois getting married for the 12 Days Challenge. It's posted here at Check my user info to find it. It is rated M, but if you don't like that kind of thing, just stop reading when it gets to 9: 14 pm. HA! _

_And lastly, and I promise I'll be done now, if you enjoy Superman Movieverse Fics of all sizes and shapes, I encourage you to visit the Superman Movieverse Fan Fic awards over at LJ. The address is http :// community. livejournal. com/supes mv awards/ but take out all the spaces so it will work. won't allow us to post links within fics. Grrr… Go and vote! _

**Age 20: Before**

I'd never really looked at a diamond before now. Of course I'd seen them – my grandmother wore far too many of them for me not to have seen them. But I'd never really had the chance to stare at one for such a long time. Mom didn't wear a diamond. Her ring was probably the most unusual wedding ring I'd ever seen, but that's very fitting considering how unconventional Mom usually is.

A diamond is the hardest of all known natural materials. Add to that the fact that it disperses light in the most brilliant of patterns and it's no wonder people use them as a symbol of their devotion. What better than a brilliant, illuminating, strong substance to serve as a constant reminder of the relationship you have with another person?

However, like all relationships, diamonds are not without flaws. I didn't know this, personally, until I started shopping for one, but it is the truth. It's nearly impossible to find a diamond without a flaw, and even if you do manage to find one, you'd have to be a millionaire to afford a decent-sized one. Most diamonds found in engagement rings have one or two minor flaws – little breaks or cracks that aren't really visible to the naked eye, but manage to bring the value of the gemstone down to a more manageable price. I was told by one jeweler that I would be better off with a diamond with two or three little flaws than a diamond with one large flaw. The larger the flaw, the weaker the gemstone.

The larger the flaw, the weaker the relationship. The deeper the lie, the harder to tell the truth. The longer you hold off mending the error, the less likely your chance at ever making things right. As I sat and looked at the diamond I'd bought for Kate with its two tiny, barely noticeable flaws, I started considering just how deep my own flaws went.

I was kidding myself by thinking I didn't have to tell her the truth – that it would be better if she didn't know. It would be more correct for me to say that it was better for _me_ if she didn't know the truth, but I knew it was only a matter of time until I had to tell her. I wanted to marry her, and I couldn't really do that without telling her who my biological father was… or could I? It was the number one question weighing on my mind for the last five months or so. Ever since the whole showdown with Mom…

I hadn't meant for it to be a showdown. All I'd wanted was for Mom and Dad to meet the woman I was in love with. I had already met Kate's family, and they were wonderful. But then, I harbored no resentment toward anyone or anything in her family, while I knew that Kate was bound to disagree with my mother when it came to Superman. It was my fault for not warning Mom, I suppose. But what could I tell her? _Oh yeah, by the way, my girlfriend hates the man you had a child with. _ Considering that my relationship with Mom had been a bit shaky ever since my confrontation with Superman, I didn't think it would be such a good idea to tell Mom anything negative like that right at the start. It was my hope that she would meet Kate, see how wonderful she was, and _then_ I could drop the bomb about the Superman thing. Kind of like softening the blow. Again, I was kidding myself.

I introduced Kate to my family in late January. We'd planned on visiting for Christmas, but her siblings were so upset that she wouldn't be there for the holidays that Kate opted to go home for a few weeks. I didn't mind too much. It just delayed the inevitable. Mom did like Kate at first, though. She was all smiles, winking at me from time to time when Kate answered things in a way mom found agreeable. For example, her career.

"What are you studying?" Mom asked over dinner.

"Psychology," Kate answered. "I want to be a family psychologist."

Mom's eyebrows went up as she quickly glanced over at me. "That's an impressive career goal."

"Not impressive. It's just something that means a lot to me."

Mom nodded. "So you absolutely want a career. That's good. It seems to me that too many women today are giving up their ambitions in life to satisfy some old-fashioned status quo. I like that you are more career-focused than that."

I knew what Mom was getting at – she wanted to know if Kate was strong enough to chase her own dreams and not fall victim to the whole stay-at-home-mom idea my mother found so repulsive.

"I do want a career, yes," Kate replied. "But I want a family, too, if that's what you're asking."

Mom looked at her for a moment. "How do you plan to do both?"

I grimaced at how much like an interview the conversation was sounding.

"Same way you did it, Mrs. White." Kate flashed one of her charming smiles. "Very carefully." Ooh, good answer! Point one for Kate.

Mom smiled, her eyes darting over to meet mine, and I could tell that Kate was winning her over. It was what I had hoped for. I only hoped it would be enough.

After dinner, Mom pulled me into the kitchen for a quick chat. "She's lovely, Jason," she said, with that all-too-knowing voice of hers.

"Thanks, Mom. I'm really glad you like her."

"Really glad, huh?" she eyed me suspiciously.

"Yes," I smiled. "_Really_ glad."

She knew what I was implying. "You're not even twenty yet, Jason."

"I know how old I am."

"You have your whole life ahead of you."

"I know that, too."

Mom sighed, and I half-expected her to scold me or tell me I was crazy, but to her credit, she didn't. What she did say, though, surprised me. "Did you tell her about your… background?"

I looked away. "I'd rather not talk about that tonight, Mom."

"Well, if you're _really_ serious about her, then she should know."

"I thought no one was supposed to know," I said resentfully, and walked out of the room before Mom had the chance to counter my argument. I should have just stayed there and had it out with her, because if I had, she wouldn't have followed me into the living room where Kate was frowning at one of the many-framed articles in the house.

"How can you stand it, Jason?" she whispered to me. "You've had to look at this stuff every day of your life, I suppose."

I shrugged. "It kind of comes with the territory of being the son of two reporters in Metropolis."

The dreaded question came next.

"Are you a fan of Superman?" Mom asked as she joined us.

Kate exhaled. "Not really."

It was the moment I'd foolishly hopped to avoid.

The smile on Mom's face slowly disappeared. "No? That's… unusual." Her eyes darted to me and then back to Kate. "Can I ask why?"

"Well," Kate drawled, making a face as she thought about how best to word it. "I just don't think he's all that he's cracked up to be. I mean, who gave him the right to step in as the world's savior? Who gave him the right to decide who lives or dies? He's not even from our planet."

"I see," Mom hissed. I could feel the anger in her heated gaze. "And the fact that he has saved thousands of lives over the years – including my life and Jason's life – means nothing?"

"Of course it does. But what about the people that he _doesn't_ save? I mean you no offence, Mrs. White," Kate offered. "I know you've built a career around Superman and that he's your friend, but I'm not going to lie to you. I think you're only seeing what you want to see."

"And what is that?" Mom seethed.

"You only see the big, grand, heroic things he does. You seem to miss the fact that there are people who die on this planet every day who don't have to, technically speaking, were Superman to offer his services more freely." Kate didn't hide the bitterness in her voice.

Mom glared at her. "He's only one man. He can't be everywhere at once."

"Maybe, but he's still an alien."

"And you're prejudiced?"

Kate frowned, "No, just protective of humanity. He is, in fact, an alien that has crashed onto our planet. It would be logical for us to fear him and his powers, but we don't. We welcome him because he's so handsome. If he were a green, slimy, one-eyed monster who did all the same heroic things, would we worship him as much as we do? I don't think so."

"He didn't choose to come here," Mom argued. "You said so yourself. He was sent here with the explicit purpose of helping us, which he has done without asking for anything in return. And I think that you fail to see just how much he has sacrificed for our planet."

"Like what?" Kate challenged.

"Like—" Mom's eyes darted to me. "Like… his family."

My heart skipped a beat.

"His family?" Kate said. "He didn't sacrifice them. They died when Krypton blew up. It's not like he had much choice in the matter."

With her focus still fixed on me, Mom's eyebrows shot up as if she expected me to admit that there was still one person alive who Superman could claim as "family." I gaped at her in response. "Don't look at me! I agree with Kate on this one."

The intensity in her eyes sharpened. "Oh, of course you do!"

"She makes a valid point, Mom. There are people – _good_ people – who die every day because he turns the other cheek."

She shook her head at me. "I don't believe you, Jason. I can't even— how can you— how— she—" With a growl of frustration, Mom threw her hands up in the air and stormed into her office, slamming the French door behind her and nearly breaking the glass.

Kate stood still beside me, and to my surprise I didn't see any anger on her face at all. Only disappointment. "I'm sorry, Jason. I should have kept my mouth shut."

"No," I stated. "You have every right to your opinions the same way she has every right to hers."

"But I'm a guest, and I really wanted her to like me. I shouldn't have started something like that." The disappointment in her voice was clear. "Will you go… tell her…"

I could see her searching for the next word. Dad entered the room before she could come up with anything that sounded right.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"Oh," I sighed, "Mom kind of got into it with Kate and stormed off."

Dad frowned. "Got into what?"

"Superman," Kate mumbled.

Dad's whole body tensed up and his eyes immediately darted to my face. "Superman?"

"Kate… doesn't much care for Superman, Dad," I stated very carefully.

Dad quirked an eyebrow at me. "Is that so? Wow." He shook his head.

"Dad—" I started.

But he stopped me. "No, Jason. Don't even _try_ to explain."

Beside me, I felt Kate drop down to sit on the sofa. "I shouldn't have said anything."

"I'll go talk to her, okay?" I offered.

Kate nodded unenthusiastically.

I knocked lightly on the door to Mom's office before letting myself in. Mom was fuming, pacing in front of her desk with her arms folded in front of her. She was shaking her head at me, her eyes baleful and her cheeks tinted pink out of anger.

"I don't believe you, Jason. I just don't believe you."

"What? That I would fall in love with someone who hates the super jerk?"

"How can you—" She gaped at me before leaning close to me and whispering through clenched teeth, "He is your _father_!"

"_Don't_ call him that," I demanded softly.

"And she hates him!" Mom said, ignoring me. "Your girlfriend hates him, Jason!"

"I know," I said without any trace of regret.

"She called him an alien and likened him to some green monster from Mars."

I chuckled. "Oh, come on, Mom. He's from another planet. Last time I checked that's what an alien is."

"Yes, fine," Mom snapped, keeping her voice quiet, but firm. "And the last time I checked he was still biologically your—"

"STOP!" I sneered. "Don't even—"

"I will not stop, Jason. How can you be with a girl who so openly hates someone that is close to you? "

"Because I hate him, too! Or have you somehow missed that fact over the last few years?"

Mom's lips formed a thin line and I could almost feel her anger. "I can't do this with you, Jason. I _cannot_ do this anymore. I've reached my limit."

"Well, I'm sorry, Mom, but I'm not suddenly going to start liking him simply because you've 'reached your limit.'"

"I didn't raise you to be like this, and I certainly don't know what he did to you that makes you feel like you have to run out and grab up the first girl you can find who doesn't like Superman!"

I nearly came undone. "First of all, you _did_ raise me like this. Second of all, you're right that you don't know what he's done… and that's item number one an a long list of things I hate about him. And lastly, I didn't just grab up the first girl who came along. I fell in love with her long before I knew her feelings on the blue Boy Scout. So don't even try to belittle my relationship with her like that."

"Oh, no," Mom laughed. "I wouldn't want to belittle your relationship – since you've been so forthcoming and honest with her. I can really tell your relationship is based on truth!"

"Which is something I learned from him…_ and_ from you!"

"That is enough!" Dad's voice bellowed behind me. "This is not the time to have this argument and you both know it."

"When would you like to have it?" I gave Mom a pointed look. "Are you free next Tuesday?"

Dad whipped me around to face him. "All right, young man, I've had enough of your smart mouth for one night, so I think you'd better just shut-up now before you say something that you'll regret." He turned to Mom. "And you need to cool off, too. Let's not forget that there is a young lady out in our living room who isn't aware that there is a fourth member in this family."

Mom and I stared at each other in raw silence for a few seconds. I could hear her heart racing in her chest. As angry as I was at some of her comments, she was still my mother and I still loved her. I wasn't about to apologize to her for what I'd said, but at least I could let her win this one.

"Fine," I conceded. "I'll stop."

"Good," Dad said. "Now, I'll go out and make excuses to Kate, because Lois, I really don't think you should talk to her right now."

"What will you tell her?" Mom asked.

Dad shrugged. "I don't know. That you're sick."

Mom rolled her eyes. "Oh, she'll never see through that one."

I mimicked my mother's eye roll and headed down the hall to the living room where Kate was stoically waiting for me to return. She stood up from her place on the couch as soon as I came around the corner.

Kate's face looked worried. "What did she say?"

Dad was right behind me and ready to cover for Mom. "I'm sorry, Kate. Lois isn't feeling very well."

Kate looked at me expectantly, as if I was supposed to call Dad out on his lie. When I didn't respond she said, "That's all right. I need to get back to my apartment, anyway. I have a huge test I should be studying for."

I followed her lead without missing a beat. "Yeah, I'll take you home then."

It wasn't until we were a mile or so down the road that Kate asked me to explain what really happened.

"What do you think? We argued," I admitted.

She slumped down into her seat. "I'm so sorry, Jason. So sorry."

"Hey, really, this isn't your fault." I chose my next words very carefully. "There is a… history there… with the whole Superman thing that you have nothing to do with, so don't feel like you're to blame here."

"But I really – I like your mom. I do. And I wanted her to like me, too." I could hear her heart rate increase. "You know? It was important to me." She looked away from me. "I don't know. Maybe I'm just… hoping…"

We hadn't officially talked about certain things yet, but I could guess from the hesitancy in her voice that Kate was thinking about how this might affect any potential future she and I might have as a couple. I needed to reassure her that there was still reason to hope.

"Kate," I said, taking her hand, "Mom did like you. In the kitchen she told me she thought you were great. And Dad liked you, too."

"Sure," she said skeptically. "It was all well and good right up until I told her what I thought of the man she'd built a career around."

_Among other things…_ The thought came unbidden into my mind, but went unspoken.

Yet it was something that I would have to face sooner or later. I would have to tell her. Putting it off only drew it out and made the situation that much worse. Especially considering where my thoughts had been heading regarding our relationship; and now it seemed that her thoughts were heading there, too. On one hand, it was a relief to know that she was thinking along the same lines as I was – that what we had was something she hoped would last for a long, long time. On the other hand, it meant telling her something that would probably put an end to our relationship.

So, which was the lesser of the two evils? Did I tell her and lose her now, or did I lie and hope she wouldn't leave me later? It was that same old question that endlessly repeated in my mind. The situation with Mom brought it to the forefront. But it was an entirely different situation that made the matter seem that much more pressing.

_Children. _

Specifically _my_ children. Mine and Kate's.

It really wasn't anything I had ever given much thought to, actually. I guess I'd always been too consumed by my own problems to consider what it would mean if I had children. But when Kate mentioned it, I couldn't help but dwell on the possibilities. How freakish would they be compared to me? Would they be sick like me? Did I really want to put a kid through something like that anyway?

It wasn't as if Kate sat me down and purposefully talked to me about it. The conversation kind of snuck up on me and took me by surprise. Given that we'd always been careful and used protection when we made love, we honestly had never talked about it. But we spent a weekend with her family for her brother's seventh birthday and the whole issue came out so quickly I didn't have much time to prepare.

I was playing ball with Ryan in the backyard. He told me how he wanted to sign up for Little League and I in turn told him how I had played ball when I was little. We tossed that ball back and forth, with me throwing it as lightly as I could and him chucking it back at me with such reckless abandon that I never knew quite where it was going to go. I sometimes pretended to drop the ball or miss it entirely, saying that he had tricked me and congratulating him on his amazing talents as a ball player.

I assumed that Kate was inside fixing dinner with her mother – or fussing with her sister, Anna, over hair or clothes, like her sister was prone to do. However, Kate was watching us from the deck. I only noticed her after Ryan threw the ball in her direction.

"Hey, you two," she said with a grin. "Time to clean up for dinner."

Ryan cheered and exclaimed that he was starving and darted off into the house. I picked up the baseball and slowly made my way over to Kate. She had an odd expression on her face.

"Thanks for playing with him."

"No problem." I tossed the ball to her and leaned against the railing of the deck. "Baseball's a favorite, even if the pitcher needs some work."

"You made him think he was a sport star."

I laughed and shrugged it off. "He's just a little kid. What did you think I'd do? Tell him he sucked?"

She made a face. "No, it's just that you were really good with him."

"Well, he's a nice kid."

She hummed thoughtfully.

Suddenly, for no reason, my insides squirmed. "What?"

"Nothing."

"Don't say 'nothing.' There's _something_. I can see it in your face." I could hear it in her heartbeat as well.

"Just…" She looked away from me, her cheeks turning pink. "I think you'd make… a good father."

The word hit me like a bolt of lightning. Father? Me? The guy who couldn't even admit to his own paternity? She thought _I_ would be a good father? And did that mean that she was thinking of herself as a potential mother? As in… the two of us having children together? If it hadn't been for the railing holding me up, I would have probably fallen over.

She headed into the house without saying anything else, seemingly unaware of the bombshell she had just dropped on me. I was then expected to sit through an entire dinner and evening with her family without showing how distracted her comment had made me. Why had she even brought that up? Was there something she wasn't telling me? Was she…I couldn't even finish the thought. It wasn't until much later, after Ryan and Anna were asleep, that we had the chance to talk about it.

I had gone outside to think and take in the beautiful scenery of the area while Kate said good night to her siblings. When she joined me, she sat down on the patio bench with her legs across my lap and covered us both with a blanket. I hadn't even noticed it was chilly outside. We sat in silence for a moment, for I really didn't know what to say.

"I scared you, didn't I?" Soft as her voice was, it startled me a bit. I didn't answer her. "I didn't mean to scare you. I broke a big rule, huh? Do not randomly mention children to your boyfriend… well, unless you're pregnant."

My head snapped up to look at her. "Are you pregnant?"

"No," she stated. And then she realized what she had done. "I saw you playing with Ryan and you looked like a natural with him. Then you asked me what I was thinking, so I told you. That's why I mentioned children." She smiled, "Believe me, I'm not pregnant."

"Good," I sighed in relief.

The only thing I could think of right now that was worse than the fact that we were talking about children when she didn't know I wasn't fully human was the idea that she could be pregnant before I'd even had the chance to ask her to marry me. Of all the things I didn't want a child of mine to go through, having to face the fact that his parents weren't married was at the top of my list. Super powers aside, it hurts to think of yourself as an unwanted pregnancy.

Kate took my relief to mean something else though. "You don't want children?" she asked.

It took me a moment to catch up with her. "I didn't say that."

"Or you just don't want to have children with_ me_?"

"Kate, that isn't what I said."

"You were relieved that I wasn't pregnant."

"Yeah! We're not done with school yet. We're not married. We're not even engaged yet! I don't know about you, but I am totally not ready to have a baby. So, you'll have to forgive me, but I am very relieved that you aren't pregnant."

She was quiet for a moment. "Does that mean that you want children? Eventually?"

I ran my fingers up and down her legs as I thought it over. "I don't know," was my honest reply. "I've never really considered having kids."

"Well, I have. I want at least two. I love Ryan and Anna, I just wish they closer to me in age. I think kids should have siblings."

"Something wrong with being an only child?" I said teasingly.

"Yes," she said matter-of-factly. "You don't have anyone like you to grow up with. All the burden falls on your shoulders."

Boy, did she get _that _one right!

"I suppose that's one thing most girls do that guys just don't understand. We plan out our weddings by age ten. A few more years and we're picking out possible baby names. Girls sometimes have their whole lives planned out - like a puzzle they work on their whole adolescence. The only missing piece is who will share that life with them."

I looked into her beautiful green eyes, wanting to know if I was understanding her correctly. "When you say most girls, are you lumping yourself in with them, or are you one of the few who go against the grain?"

She chuckled. "Oh, I'm totally lumping myself in with that group. But see, where I differ is that I'm pretty sure I've found my missing puzzle piece."

Our eyes were locked and the air was tense with emotion. Knowing that anything I would say right now would break the spell, I leaned forward and kissed her, simply, delicately.

"I love you," she said softly.

"I love you."

"And I'm sorry I scared you. I'm really not in any kind of a hurry for any of that stuff, okay? I just wanted you to know how I felt because I don't want to lose you."

"Well, I don't have any plans to go anywhere, so I think you're stuck with me."

"I know," she said to my surprise.

"You know?"

"Yup, from something you said just a moment ago."

I gave her a questioning look.

"You said that we weren't engaged." Her fingers laced through mine. "Yet."

I had been caught. She knew it and I knew it. "Okay," I said, giving in to defeat. "So you want two?"

"At least two. And no more than five."

"_Five_?" I nearly fell off my seat. "I'm not having five kids! Two… maybe, but certainly not five!"

She laughed at me, and then kissed me. And then kissed me again. And again.

"So, you're okay with having kids?"

My mind had gone fuzzy at the first kiss. She should know by now that once she started in on the kissing that I couldn't really think properly. Or maybe that was her plan after all – to catch me off guard.

She kissed me again and then said, "So long as we do all that other stuff first?"

I pulled away from her, feeling suddenly very serious. "Kate, listen. I know this will sound backwards and maybe even ultra conservative of me, but 'all that other stuff' as you call it is really important to me. I know what it's like when families do things out of order. If this is what you want – if you want me to be part of it – then we have to do things in order."

"Meaning you don't want to talk about kids until we're…" She hesitated slightly before saying, "…married."

"Right. There's a couple of other things we have to do first, okay?"

She smiled brightly. "I completely agree. I'm just glad I know how you feel."

"There's something else, though. And I'm totally serious about this. My… father…" I stumbled over the word because I hated referring to _him_ that way, but I didn't have much of a choice right now. "He didn't know about me for a long time."

She frowned in confusion. Since she knew my dad – Richard – had been there when I was born, I could tell why she was confused. But I wasn't talking about Richard.

"Mom didn't tell him for a while," I clarified. "So… he missed out on some things." The understatement of the century. "I don't want that… to happen. You know? So, if you ever think that you… could be…even for a fraction of a second… I mean."

Her lips curved up in a gentle smile. "I think I understand."

"Yeah?"

"I wouldn't keep something like that from you, Jason. Ever. Okay?"

"Okay."

She kissed me a few more times, keeping them fairly chaste and innocent. I didn't press for more given the fact that I could hear her stepmother walking around in the kitchen. It wouldn't be good for her parents to find us making out.

"So are we engaged?" she asked bluntly.

I had to shake off the stunned feeling before I could reply. "No."

"Well, it seems like that's what we were talking about."

"Yeah, but…"

"Or did I misunderstand?"

"Kate!" I grabbed her face in my hands. "You over-think things!" I laughed. "Don't start analyzing my reasoning on this one. Just let me catch up and… give me some time to do this right."

Time. I had run out of time. I needed to tell her the truth. Soon. Not telling her was too big of a flaw in our relationship. A flaw that I hoped with all my heart wouldn't break us.


	24. Age 20 part two: After

_AN: First off, let me remind you that if you haven't read chapters 1-9 of In the shadow of my Father, then this chapter will make little to no sense. If anything, read chapter 9 so you can understand the change in Jason's relationship with Clark. _

_I originally intended for Age 20 to be a two parter – just Before and After - but upon talking about it with a few others and thinking long and hard over what needed to come next, it ended up much longer than planned. I have four sections that need to be addressed now, so I will tackle two now and two later. (Bonus points to the reviewer who can guess which two parts are missing here.) Thus, Age 20 becomes a three parter with the After bit split up into two for the sake of my beta readers' sanity! And speaking of…_

_Many thanks go to htbthomas and hellish red devil for all their support. And van-el gets the "blame" award for the scene with Lois that opens this chapter. It was his comment that made me realize it needed to be here. _

**Age 20 part two: After**

…_Mom…_

I didn't tell her I was coming over. I didn't want her to have any warning. She would plan out answers and steel herself for what was to come, and that was the last thing I wanted. I didn't even knock on the front door to tell her I was there. After all, it was still my home even if I didn't really live there anymore. I just walked on in and went to her office where she was busy typing away at her computer, as usual.

"Mom?" I said softly.

She was startled. "Jason!" Her hand flew to her heart. "Scare me to death, why don't you?"

"Sorry."

"I didn't even hear the door open!" she gasped.

"I didn't mean to scare you."

"What are you doing here?"

And then she looked at me for the first time – really looked at me – her mouth gaping open as she took in my appearance. I'm sure I looked like a total mess with puffy eyes and a tortured expression on my face. More than that, I was tired – drained – both physically and emotionally, and I knew it showed in my body language. That's what a night of honest emotional outpouring does to you – it drains you.

Not to mention that I'd spent the last couple of hours aimlessly walking around Metropolis thinking over everything that Clark had said to me. I had to mentally replay every bit of dialogue, every conversation, every moment I'd ever spent with him to try and work out where I had gone wrong in my interpretation. If what he said to me tonight was true, and I couldn't deny the honesty I had felt from him, then up until now, everything I'd ever known—everything I'd ever _assumed_--about my relationship with him was wrong. Everything I knew about myself – about him – had to be reworked in my mind to adjust to this new bit of information.

I'd been through this once before in my life. When I was ten years old and I found out he was my father, I'd done pretty much the same thing. There had been so many questions I needed answered back then, so many holes to fill. Most importantly, I had to have the information verified from the only source that could confirm what I'd learned was true, and that source was my mother. Now, ten years later, being in nearly the same position, I found my feet dragging me back to her to once again confirm the truth for me. There were some things I needed to hear from her, just to make sure they matched up with what Clark had said. I knew it was an underhanded thing to do, but I was too emotionally raw for anything but the cold, hard truth.

"What happened?" Mom said, standing up and coming around her desk to get a better look at me.

"I need to talk to you about something."

Her worried eyes searched my face. "Are you okay?"

"I dunno. It all depends on what you have to say."

Her anxious expression deepened. "What's wrong?"

Swallowing hard, I dove right into the thick of things. "Whose idea was it not to tell me that Superman was my father?"

She blinked, obviously caught off guard.

"Was it your idea?" I asked. "Or was it his idea?"

She shook her head as if confused and slowly lowered her body into one of the soft leather chairs lining the wall. "Um…" She wet her lips. "Mine."

My heart skipped a beat.

"It was my idea," she confessed. "He didn't argue with me about it, but it was my idea. I mean, I'm the one who mentioned it first, I suppose."

It was something that had been plaguing my brain for the last few hours – something Clark had said that didn't register right away. I'd always assumed that it was Superman who had told Mom she couldn't tell me I was his son. He'd told me I couldn't tell Mom he was Clark, so it only made sense that he had done the same regarding my paternity. However, earlier tonight Clark had said that Mom asked him to wait until I was old enough to understand. _Mom_ told _him_ to keep quiet. It was the complete opposite of what I had always assumed, and I'd never hesitated to show my anger about it to him. Yet up until tonight Clark had never once put the blame of keeping my paternity a secret on my mother's shoulders. In fact, he didn't even blame her tonight. He was just stating facts.

Facts. Not assumptions. _Facts_. And Mom had just confirmed it.

"Why?" I asked weakly.

She took a few deep breaths and slumped back in her chair. "Well, first of all, Richard didn't know. I had to tell Richard first because I was afraid you would slip and tell him. Which basically leads to reason number two. I mean, you idolized Superman. You drew picture after picture of him. I was so afraid that if I told you he was your father that you would be so excited you'd want to tell all of your friends."

I frowned. "And he just agreed with you?"

She pushed her hair behind her ear. "Yes… well… sort of."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that he agreed with me, but that he told me he didn't want to wait too long to tell you. He wanted to see you and talk to you – he said that you needed to be able to talk to him as your father sooner rather than later. I guess he didn't know who his real father was until he was an adult, and he didn't want that for you."

It was my turn to be surprised.

"Did you know that?" Mom continued. "That he grew up here? That he came here as a child and didn't know who he really was until he was older?"

I chose my words very carefully. "Yes. I've known about that for a while, I just… didn't know _you_ knew."

She hummed thoughtfully. "I've put pieces together over the years. The reporter in me tells me that there is an amazing story there – where he lived, who he was, who raised him. And yet the mother in me tells me to leave it alone."

I was speechless.

"Anyway, the point is that every day that passed – every month, every year – I could see that it pained him that you didn't know who he really was. Each time he came by the house, it would break my heart to see how happy and excited he was to just look at you, let alone if he got the chance to actually talk to you. And then when he would have to leave… the longing in his eyes…" She looked away from me, a sad smile on her face. "You probably don't believe me, but Jason, he was always desperate to talk to you."

Her words sparked a memory in my mind. I was eleven and Mom had asked him – Clark – to take me home from school. I had yelled at him and accused him of all sorts of things because he hadn't been to see me sooner. I heard his voice in my head saying _I've wanted to talk to you – I've been desperate to talk to you_ just like mom said. Desperate to talk to me.

"Do you remember your seventh birthday?" she asked, snapping me out of my memory.

"Vividly," I stated, surprised that she had picked the very same birthday I had been thinking about earlier that day.

"When he asked me if he could come by and see you… oh God. I was terrified what he would say to you. He had never asked for time alone with you like that before. He said, 'He's my son, Lois, and he doesn't know me,' and I just couldn't say no to him. I thought for sure he was going to tell you he was your father."

"But you let me go," I said, a bit in confusion.

"He's your father. Even though he had managed to steal five minutes here or ten minutes there, it wasn't enough. It wasn't nearly enough. And he loved you so much. I had to trust that what he would say and do that day would be in your best interest because he loved you."

I bit my lip. "Is that what he said?"

"What?"

"He said… that he loved me?"

She squinted at me. "When?"

"On my seventh birthday."

She shrugged. "Probably. I don't remember exactly, but he said it all the time. Why?"

I pursed my lips, mulling over her words. _He said it all the time_.

That was the other thing I'd spent the evening brooding over. Clark had said he loved me and that he has always loved me, in spite of the fact that I had never heard him say it. I'd spent my life waiting for him to say it only to discover that he had _tried_ to say it and I had never let him. Over the last few hours, I'd managed to pinpoint so many possible times that it was almost ridiculous.

When I was eleven and he brought me home for school. He'd taken my hand and tried to tell me something when Mom pulled up and I ordered him to go. He could have been trying to tell me he loved me, and yet I'd told him to leave. When I was thirteen and was exposed to kryptonite for the first time, he'd come to my room and held me tight; I could clearly remember _feeling_ how much he loved me. Or when I was fifteen and had run off from the school group to try to fly and he thought I'd been kidnapped or something – when he'd found me, he'd held me just as tight, with just as much emotion. And then later that night, after I'd told him to go away and leave me alone, he'd told Mom to tell me something. I hadn't heard it, but it had made him cry. "Make sure he knows," he had said. Or when I'd told him I hated him and never wanted to see him again, he hadn't wanted to leave me. He'd said he _couldn't_ leave me. He'd begged me not to ask him to leave me. And then he'd tried to tell me something… and I wouldn't hear it. And my freshman year, when I'd pulled that awful stunt with the kryptonite, he'd pretty much said that he would die for me. He'd demanded that I give him the kryptonite even though it would kill him. "But at least it won't hurt _you_ anymore," he had said.

I was so blind, so deaf. He'd said it all the time and I'd never heard it. I'd never _allowed _myself to hear it.

"Why are you asking all of this?" Mom pressed. "What's happened?"

I closed my eyes, letting my head drop forward. "I talked to him tonight," I admitted softly.

She was quiet for a moment before saying, "You talked to him… or you yelled at him?"

I looked up briefly. "A little of both. More talking than yelling though. And he did most of the talking."

Her mouth opened and then closed as if she was trying to decide what to say. "Did he confront you?"

"No, I went to his—" I stopped short of saying apartment. Mom obviously knew more than Clark realized. I'd asked him to tell her the truth, which he'd promised me he would. It would be very backhanded of me to spill the beans now when we had just reached a sort of compromise. "I went to him," I corrected.

Her eyebrows raised in amazement. "Really?"

I nodded.

"Why?" She shifted in her seat suddenly. "Not that I'm angry at you for doing it or I don't think you should have, because I'm glad you tried to talk to him. I want you to talk to him. I'm just surprised that after all this time you just up and decided to go."

I smiled an apologetic smile. "Kate told me to talk to him – that I needed to before I could move on."

Mom's frown returned full force. "Kate?"

Our eyes locked. "Yes, Mom. Kate."

"She… knows?"

"She knows. We got into a bad situation and he had to rescue us. Well, he had to rescue me. I had to use my powers and Kate saw the whole thing."

"Was she… angry?"

"Yes, but we talked it through. That's what Kate does – she gets people to talk. So I started talking and I told her everything."

Mom was sitting as still as stone. "And she sent you to talk to him because…?"

"Because she loves me and she doesn't want to see me spend the rest of my life hurting."

Mom shook her head in disbelief. "But she hates him!"

"No, I was wrong about that. He's not her favorite person in the world, but she doesn't hate him."

Mom gaped at me. "Are you kidding me?"

"We were both wrong, Mom."

"She called him an alien."

"Which he is."

"She accused him of selectively saving people."

"Which he does."

"How can you say that she doesn't hate him?"

"Because she can acknowledge the good that he does. She recognizes that he has done some remarkable things for humanity. She just doesn't think that he should be worshiped like a god."

"He isn't!"

"Yes, he is! Take a look around, Mom! You, of all people, know firsthand that the best way to sell a newspaper is to put his picture on the front page. People can't resist him."

"And that's his fault? She blames him for that?"

"She did. She accused him of trying to get attention, but she sees him differently now." I took a deep breath and added, "_I_ see things differently now, too, and it's all because she made me go and talk to him about it."

Mom didn't have a response for that.

"You should thank her, Mom. She made me talk to him, and that's why I'm here talking to you. I have to make sure that I'm understanding things correctly, because there is so much that I haven't understood about the past, but I'm learning, and I'm sorry, and it's going to take time to work through. But I don't want you to hold a grudge against Kate for this one, because she got it right. She got me to talk to him." I swallowed the lump that had developed in my throat. "And I am going to marry her, so I really hope you can forgive her. 'Cause, Mom, I've said worse stuff about him than she did, and yet you're still here talking to me. You still love me, right?"

"Of course I love you."

"So, you can forgive me for all the horrible things I've said, but you can't forgive her?"

"It's different. She's not my daughter."

"What about your daughter-in-law?"

Mom looked taken aback. "You told her everything – _everything_ – and she's really okay with it?"

"You thought once she knew the truth that she'd leave me. That's why you were so adamant that I tell her."

Mom's face went pink. "I'm sorry, Jason. I—I snapped. I know. And I passed judgment on her just as inaccurately as she did with Superman."

"So, you think maybe… you could try to get along with her?"

Mom's face scrunched in thought. "Do you think maybe you could wait a few years before you actually get married?"

"Yes," I said without hesitation.

"Then I'm willing to give her a second chance."

"That's it?" I said, waiting for the other shoe to drop. There had to be more.

"That's it."

"But – really?"

"If you're telling me the truth – that it was Kate who got you to work things out with your father – then I owe her more than a second chance."

…_Kate…_

The morning sunlight filled the room and covered my body with its warmth. I rolled over, turning towards it, seeking more if it. I had been so completely drained and exhausted last night that I'd just collapsed onto my bed and fallen immediately deeply asleep. With the sunlight pouring over my skin, radiating strength and life, I felt recharged and strong again. I stretched my arms up as I yawned, and then pushed the covers down to expose more of my body to the heat and radiation I so desperately craved. I even snaked one leg out from under the covers, it felt so good.

"You wake up with the sun."

I turned my head, surprised to see Kate lying there next to me. She hadn't been there when I went to sleep.

"Lance let me in," she explained upon seeing my reaction. "I hope you don't mind."

"No. Why would I mind?"

"I wasn't sure if you were upset with me."

I turned on my side to face her. "Why would I be upset with you?"

She snuggled into her pillow, lowering her eyes away from mine. It didn't escape my notice that she wasn't touching me at all. It was unlike Kate to stay so far away from me, and that spoke volumes."Because you didn't call me last night. I was worried those things had gone badly and that you'd blame me for making it worse."

"Oh," I sighed. "Well…"

"Well?" Worry covered her beautiful face. "Why didn't you call me?"

I had a good reason for it. I just hoped that she would understand it. "Okay, please don't take this the wrong way, but… I needed to think. I needed to be alone for a little while."

"But you still could have called me and told me you were all right."

"True, but honestly, Kate, I was so worn out that I didn't have the energy to talk about it anymore. I needed to sleep it out." I reached out and took one of her hands in reassurance. "If I had called you or gone over to your place, you would have asked questions. I just… couldn't… you know?"

She bit her bottom lip. "I'm too inquisitive. I've been told that by nearly every teacher I've ever had. I don't mean to pry, I just worry."

"I know that, and I really did consider calling you."

She was quiet for a moment. "Then… I take it that since you didn't want to talk about it that it went badly?"

I rolled onto my back and stared up at the ceiling. "Well, it was one of the most difficult conversations I've ever had to get through, but I wouldn't say that it went… badly. Painful, yes. But bad?" I shrugged.

"What did he say?" she whispered.

"Everything I've ever wanted him to say," I replied just as quietly. My eyes remained focused on the ceiling. "I wondered if someone had fed him the lines – like he was reading from a script or something."

Beside me, Kate's breathing quickened along with her heart rate, but she remained silent and let me offer up whatever I needed to say.

"He called me a—a miracle," I continued, fumbling over the word slightly. "My brain has been trying to wrap itself around that one ever since he said it. It's so opposite from what I've ever believed about myself."

"What do you mean?" Kate asked.

I wet my lips, but still didn't look over at her. "When I was younger and I thought Richard was my father, I knew that I had been born before they were married. It was clear that I was a mistake, and that it took them a good long time to work things out. I was completely not in their plans. And then when I found out that Superman was my father, that feeling of being a mistake intensified. Because – come on – there was no way he and Mom planned on this happening. A human and a Kryptonian aren't even supposed to be able to have children together, right? So that made me not only a _mistake_, but someone that was never even supposed to be _born_. Like some freak of nature – genetics gone awry. I was never even supposed to exist. It's like I'm living on borrowed time."

"Stop it," Kate snapped. I turned to look at her face and saw her eyebrows furrowed together in anger. "Don't talk like that. I hate it when you talk like that!"

"That's how I felt, Kate. That's how I've always felt. That's what I've always believed about myself. That I was a mistake who was never supposed to be born."

Her eyes closed in pain. "Please, stop it!"

"Listen to me, Kate. Hear me out." Her eyes opened to meet mine. I rolled back onto my side to face her. "He called me a _miracle_. _His_ miracle. Do you have any idea what that did to me? What that means to me? It means that everything I've ever believed about myself… is wrong. I've spent all night long trying to convince myself that… that I'm not…" I really didn't' know how to word it. I hadn't quite figured it out yet for myself.

Kate offered me the words that were escaping me. "That just because they didn't plan on you, it doesn't mean that they aren't glad you're here."

"Yes!" I hissed out in excitement. "A miracle, Kate, by definition is something wonderful – something to marvel at – something awe-inspiring. That's what he compared me to. Not a mistake." I rolled onto my back again, feeling the power of the realization as my brain processed the very idea.

"Did he say why he's never told you that until now?" Kate asked.

Guilt once again started to flood my system. "Actually, Kate, he has been saying it. At least he's been _trying_ to tell me. I've just been too pigheaded to notice ."

Kate was very quiet beside me as I explained the details of the evening. I told her of my accusations and how he'd responded to them. I told her what he had said about his time in the hospital when I was young. I told her how he'd been watching me, listening to my recitals and watching me grow up from a distance. I told her how he'd hugged me and told me he would always love me, and even though it was difficult to accept, I was able to believe him at long last.

Kate listened to every detail, asking a question here and there until she was satisfied with my answers. I never once felt as if I were discussing my personal life with a therapist, as I'd often accused her of doing, but rather that the woman I loved was anxious for me to work things out with my father so that I could move on, so that I could be truly happy. Plainly and simply, Kate cared more for my happiness than I'd ever realized. Then I explained how I went and talked with my mother afterwards. I explained how she'd confirmed everything he had said and then some. I even explained how I'd told mom about Kate's involvement in getting me to go talk to my father and how she should try to forgive Kate.

"You didn't!" Kate said, alarmed.

"I did."

She groaned.

"What's the matter?"

"Because now your mother's going to think that I _made_ you go and tell her that just so she will like me!"

I nearly laughed. "No, she doesn't. Truth be told, I had to do some convincing that you weren't the enemy. But she is ready to talk. She wants me to thank you. In fact, both my mother _and _my father wanted me to thank you."

Kate blushed. "Really?"

"Yeah. You got me to do something that the two of them have been pestering me about for years . It's amazing what the threat of losing you will do to me."

Her eyes darted down as if she was trying to shield them from me. "I shouldn't have done that."

"What?"

"Used our relationship like that. Given you an ultimatum. It was in bad taste, especially considering how hypocritical it was."

"How so?"

"I asked you to go and make amends with a man that I, myself, harbor resentment for. I shouldn't ask you to do something unless I'm willing to do the same thing. That's hypocritical, Jason."

I smirked at her, still very much aware that she wasn't touching me. "Maybe, but it worked."

"But if it hadn't – if you hadn't gone to talk to him… or if things had turned out badly – then I might have lost you."

"Hey," I said, scooting closer to her, slipping a leg in between hers. "You couldn't lose me if you tried." I brushed her silken hair back from her face.

Her eyes finally lifted to look into mine. "Then you really aren't upset with me?"

"Why would I be upset with you? You didn't lie to me. _You_ didn't try to hide the fact that you aren't entirely human."

"No, but you have no idea how scared I was all last night that something had gone wrong and you had decided that my ultimatum was too cruel for you to live with." Her hands slid around my waist as she snuggled closer to me.

I leaned in and rested my forehead against hers. "And you have no idea how scared I've been since the first day I met you that when you would find out who I really was, you'd call it quits. I'm still afraid of it, actually."

She blinked back her surprise. "Why? I told you I wanted this."

"Kate—" I took a deep breath, knowing what I was about to point out to her could possibly end it all, but I owed it to her. I loved her too much to not make sure she had thought of everything. "I need to make sure you understand something before we go any further. I know you've said you can accept who I am, but consider that… well…" I swallowed hard. "If I have kids… they will be… different."

"What do you mean _if_ you have kids? You agreed to at least two a while back, or is my memory failing me?"

I gaped at her in wonder.

"I love you," she stated firmly. "I don't plan on having children, let alone making love with anyone else but you. Now, if you have a problem with that, then—OOF!"

I kissed her full on the mouth, stopping her from saying anything more. The kiss was slow and deep and the perfect release for the tension I'd been feeling since I'd woken up to find her so far away from me on the bed. I wasn't going to lose her. She was here and she wasn't going to go away. All that was left was to make it official.

I yanked my mouth away from hers, mumbling a quick, "Hold that thought," and darted out of bed to search for the item I'd been wanting to give her for weeks now. I'd tucked it away in my sock drawer the other night after the disastrous picnic. Once I'd found it, I took it out of its box and crawled back into bed.

"What are you doing?" Kate complained.

I only smiled at her and said, "I know I've already asked you this, but I screwed it up royally and I'm sorry for that. If I wasn't so anxious to get this over with, I'd wait to take you out to dinner and do this properly, but I love you and I just can't wait another second."

"Jason?"

I took hold of her left hand and held the half-carat solitaire diamond ring up where she could see it. "Will you marry me?"

She gasped and stared wide-eyed at the ring. "Jason! Oh! I… I…" She looked into my eyes. "It's beautiful!"

"I'm glad you like it."

"I'm just so… surprised!"

I chuckled at her. "You knew I had a ring. I even told you I had a ring for you."

"I know, I just didn't think it would be so pretty!"

"Well, again, I am glad you like it, but… you still haven't answered the question."

"What?" she blinked. "OH! Oh, yes. YES! Of course my answer is yes!" I slid the ring onto her finger and then smiled at her, feeling happier than I had in a very long time. She kissed me with such joy that I was completely lost. I felt as if I'd been starving for her. It had only been a few days since she'd found out the truth about me, but I'd spent each and every one of those days wondering if she would ever kiss me like this again. Now that she was, I reveled in it more than ever. As I nuzzled my way down her neck, I realized that she wasn't paying any attention to me but rather holding her hand out so she could admire her ring.

"You must really like it," I mumbled against her skin.

"I do. It's perfect."

I kissed her again, hoping to draw her focus back to me. It worked for a moment, but then she shocked me out of my skin by asking the really big question.

"So, when do I get to _properly_ meet Superman?"


	25. Age 20 part three: Fathers

_AN: Sorry I was away so long. I was caught up in Harry Potter land, as I'm sure many of you were. But I'm back now and ready to press on. _

_Many thanks to the beta readers for all their grammar fixes. Htbthomas and Hellish red Devil are my grammar heroes! And a special thanks to Van-el, my personal comic book know-it-all, for the pretzels. I was stunned that Clark's supposedly made up fetish with mustard actually was partially canon! You'll understand when you get to the end of the chapter. Happy reading! _

**Age 20 part three: Fathers**

…_Dad…_

"Jason, can you help me carry this box inside the house?"

That was a typical request, which I didn't mind, because to the unobservant eye, it didn't appear as if I was doing anything out of the ordinary.

"Jason, can you help lift this couch for me so I can vacuum under it?"

A plea that I heard at least twice a month until I moved out and went to school.

"Jason, this lid is stuck. Can you get it open?"

A personal favorite of my mother's.

"Jason, would you mind helping me out with the plane?"

It never mattered what he needed help with, Dad always asked me to do something unusual. Sometimes it meant carrying parts; other times it was lifting a certain piece so he could fix something. But to Dad's credit, he never asked me to do very much strength-wise, and I appreciated him for that. So when he called me and said he could use my help with a flat tire, I naturally agreed to help. I may have groaned a little bit like I normally did, but it was more from the fact that I didn't really want to have to go out to the house today. I needed to rehearse. Regardless, I found myself heading out of the city in the direction of my parent's house.

Dad waved to me from the driveway as I pulled up. Just as he had said, his car had a flat tire. I stepped out of my car, shaking my head as I walked over to him.

"Haven't you ever heard of a tire jack? Most new cars come with them these days." I looked at the car closely. "This is a new car, right?"

He nodded. "Do you like it?"

"It's an Audi."

"It's fully loaded."

"It's an _Audi_."

"It gets thirty-five miles to the gallon."

"It's _still_ an Audi."

"So?"

"You and I have got to talk about cars one of these days," I laughed at him. "If it's fully loaded, then it had to come with a jack."

He held up his hands in surrender. "It did, but Lois did something with hers a while back, and I put mine in her car so I would feel safer when she was driving."

I tapped my foot on the deflated tire. "AAA couldn't come out here? Or did you think you could save yourself a few bucks by calling me?"

Dad shrugged apologetically.

I rolled my eyes. "Fine. I'll lift. You do the dirty work."

I took hold of the bumper of the car and easily lifted it off the ground far enough that Dad could replace the tire with his spare. He had removed the first two bolts when he thanked me for coming to help him.

"No problem," I said mildly. "Superpowers gotta be handy for something, huh?"

The next bolt came off the tire. "About that…" Dad said, making me instantly cautious. "Lois told me that you were over here a few weeks ago."

"Yeah," I said hesitantly.

"She said that you were working things out with…" The next bolt clinked to the ground. "…with your um… your father." His voice went up significantly on the word "father."

I knew I should have said something meaningful, but all I could think of was a quiet and tentative, "Yeah."

He looked up at me quickly before removing the last bolt keeping the flat tire in place. "I just wanted you to know that that's… that's good. You should work things out with him. I mean… you need to." He pulled the old tire off and picked up the spare. "After all, he is… your father, so you should—"

"Dad," I interrupted. "Don't keep calling him that, okay. He's – I mean – you're my father, okay?"

Again he looked up at me briefly as he started replacing the bolts. "I appreciate that, Jason, but he is… your father."

"Biologically," I added, trying to make a point and wondering why Dad was talking this way in the first place. "You're always going to be my dad. You're the one that I'm going to think of that way. He wasn't around enough to come first."

Dad made a face and I couldn't tell if he was having difficultly with the tire or with my assessment of my relationship with Superman. "I need to tell you something, Jason. Something you need to understand about your father." The drill whirred as the next bolt slid into place. "You accuse him of not being around much, and that, I'm afraid to say, is my fault."

I frowned at him. "No, it's not. You didn't tell him to stay away from me."

When the last bolt was secured, Dad gave the tire a jerk to make sure it was firmly in place and then looked up at me. "Yes, I did."

There was a deafening silence in the garage.

Dad stood up slowly. "You can put the car down now."

I lowered it gently to the ground, still confused and taken by surprise at my dad's announcement.

"I told him to stay away from you," he explained. When I found out that he was your real father I was so angry and jealous and afraid. Afraid that he would take you away from me – or that you would want to go with him. You might not have been my flesh and blood, but I'll be damned if I didn't love you just the same. I'd believed you were mine for so long that it wasn't as if I could just flip a switch and not feel as if you were my son anymore. And by that point Lois and I were married." He looked away from me. "It was bad enough to have my suspicions confirmed about his relationship with Lois before I came along. I wasn't going to let him ruin what I'd worked so hard for."

It was the first time that I'd realized how little Dad really knew about the whole situation. I'd never thought to ask him what he knew about Mom and Superman. I'd been told that there was a time when Mom honestly thought I was Richard's son, so he and Mom had to have hooked up before they knew about me. But now I understood that Dad hadn't known how deep Mom's relationship with Superman went before he was part of the picture. I felt very sorry for him in that instant.

His eyes focused on me once again. "I told him that this was _my_ family, not his. That Lois was _my_ wife… and you were _my_ son. I agreed that at some point you would need him – that as your powers developed, you'd need his guidance. But I was too selfish to just allow him to always come around and be your other father. I was too afraid that he'd become the _real_ father and I'd become… the _other_ one." He shook his head, lowering his eyes to the ground. "I'm sorry, Jason. If I had known how hard it was going to be on you, I would have never told him to stay away."

I was stunned beyond speech. I didn't know how to react or what to say to him. Nothing had prepared me for this kind of news. Nothing had prepared me for the guilt that he felt over something I couldn't really blame him for. Could I really pass judgment on a man for wanting to hold on to the family he loved?

"I just wanted you to know," Dad finished softly.

I nodded. "I'm glad you told me, but there's something that you need to know. It wasn't just that he stayed away from me. That was one of the big problems, yes, but there are a lot more issues than just that. So, please, don't take the blame for my troubles with him. It isn't your fault."

Dad took a step closer to me. "If only I'd been more supportive, maybe things would have been better."

"Dad," I stopped him. "You told him to stay away. Okay. I'll give you that one. But did you tell him not to ever tell me that he loved me? Because up until a few weeks ago, I'd never heard him say that to me. Or did you tell him never to call me his son? Did you tell him to make me lie and keep secrets from you and mom – secrets that even now I can't tell you about? There are so many more issues to this mess than just the fact that he stayed away."

Dad looked perplexed. "He really never told you that he loved you?"

I shrugged and made a face. "I can think of times where he tried to say it, or that he expressed it, but did he ever actually say it? No."

Dad shook his head, his eyes closing and his mouth forming a thin line.

"Hey," I said, "that's one of the things we talked about. It's one of the things we're working through. It just going to take some time. But I really appreciate that you told me this."

"I just want to help. You need your father." This time, he didn't hesitate or stumble over the word.

"Actually, I need _both_ of my fathers," I said honestly. "He's not going to replace you. When people ask me about my dad, I automatically think of you. In fact, Kate and I just went out the other day and bought Father's Day gifts for you and for her dad. So it's not like I'm exchanging one for the other. You're still my dad… and you always will be."

For the first time since I'd arrived, Dad smiled. "Thanks, Jason." He hugged me, clapping me on the back before releasing me. "And thanks for helping me with the tire."

"No problem." I glanced at the back of the car again. "Like I said, my powers have to be good for something." A quick squint of my eyes and I saw inside the trunk of the car where the spare is usually kept… where the tire jack is usually stored. Correction – where the tire jack was currently stored. My eyes darted back to Dad.

"You know, it's interesting how you can remember I have one ability and yet forget that I have another."

"What do you mean?" Dad asked.

"The car jack… in the trunk… I can see it."

"Oh."

I gave a small smile. "You know, if you wanted to talk, you could have just said that you wanted to talk. You didn't have to go through all of this."

He smirked. "Maybe. I just didn't want to start talking and have you run away. I wanted you to stay put for a while."

"But you lied," I said, still smiling.

"No, I didn't. I told you that I gave mine to Lois, which is the truth. This is a replacement one I bought a while back. You never asked me if I actually had a jack."

I rolled my eyes. "A technicality. Just promise me that next time you need to talk, that you'll just say so. I don't particularly enjoy being your human car jack… or Kryptonian car jack... or whatever."

"Done," he said with a chuckle.

…_Clark…_

I hadn't really spoken to him in a month. I suppose it seemed odd to think that we worked through some of the big issues only to once again find ourselves at a distance, but sometimes that's just how it worked. I needed time to think and adjust and process all the information I had learned. Once again, if it hadn't been for Kate and her desire to meet Superman again and prove that she, too, could be civil, I might not have even spoken to him this soon. However, she felt she had waited long enough and wanted the chance to make amends. Kate had gone through similar motions with my mother, and to my astonishment, things had ended up fairly well. Now she wanted that same opportunity with the "Man of Steel" himself. And that meant that I had to talk to him first.

I called him on his cell, for even though I had begun to get over some of my personal issues with him, I didn't think I'd ever feel comfortable approaching him as Superman. Clark was infinitely easier to talk to, in my opinion. As usual when talking to him though, I got that nervous ball of energy in the pit of my stomach.

"Clark Kent."

I swallowed. "Hi, Clark. It's Jason." I noticed that for the first time in a long time I didn't fumble over my words.

"Hi," he said brightly. "How are you?"

"I'm good. I just haven't seen you in a while and thought that maybe you and I could talk."

"Yeah, of course!" I could hear the happiness in his voice. "I would have called you, but I was just – you know I didn't think – I didn't know – I thought that maybe you'd kind of want your space. But – but – I can talk. Sure."

It was almost laughable how the roles had reversed and now he was the one stumbling for what to say.

"Not over the phone, though," I said. "Can we meet up?"

"Sure. Sure. Whenever. Just let me know."

"Okay, well, barring any major catastrophes… are you busy tomorrow night?"

"No," he laughed lightly. "Where do you want to meet?"

That was a good question. Where could we meet and talk about what we needed to talk about without drawing attention to ourselves? I figured a busy bar would be better than a restaurant. No one makes you feel as if you have to leave a bar too soon, and you can easily go overlooked for a greater amount of time. So we agreed to meet up at O'Malley's Pub, just down the street from his apartment for dinner.

I wasn't nervous about meeting up with him until I actually saw him sitting there at the back of the pub waiting for me. I'd never had a public conversation with him like this, and it had been years since we'd actually had a meal together. That ball of tension returned to the pit of my stomach and sat there like a lump. This would certainly be awkward, but I had to go through with it. I mentally steeled myself as I opened the door.

Clark had chosen a table at the back of the pub where the lighting wasn't so bright and we would be out of the way. Had it not been for the off-the-rack suit and cheesy grin he was wearing I would have felt like a gangster having some sort of secret meeting with his mob boss. As it were, this was just supposed to be a casual conversation between a father and his son – as casual as a conversation could be between two people who had never had a casual conversation before.

He waved when he saw me and stood up as I approached the table. His smile, although a bit eager, was warm and genuine. It had been a long time since I'd seen him smile at me like that.

"Hi, Jason."

"Hi."

Our first awkward moment came when he didn't know exactly how to greet me. From the way his hand moved forward and then retreated away from me in a fist, I could tell he was debating between shaking my hand and giving me a hug. I just smiled and sat down across from him. He did the same, taking a big gulp of his beverage as he did.

His choice of drink shocked me. "Heineken?" I said.

He swallowed. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You drink beer?"

"Oh, yeah. Something wrong with that?"

"No, I just wasn't expecting that. I mean, you're—" My hand waved in the air at him as I tried to find the right word. Morally decent? No, that wasn't right. As decent as he was, I couldn't very well say he was too moral to drink alcohol. He had a child out of wedlock, after all. A boy scout? No, that made him sound too innocent. Pure? No. Certainly not. "You're _you_," I concluded.

"Don't be so surprised," he said. "It's not like I'm doing anything illegal. Besides, I'd have to drink an entire keg to even get remotely tipsy."

"Right," I agreed. I knew from personal experience what he was talking about.

"Do you want one?" he offered, signaling for the waiter.

"I'd love one," I replied, "but I'm not twenty-one, so I can't."

Awkward moment number two had arrived and caused him to blush furiously. "Oh."

"My birthday was in March."

"I know when your birthday is," he said quickly, firmly.

"It's okay. I don't know how old _you_ are, so I can't blame you for not knowing—"

He cut me off. "I know how old you are. It was stupid of me. I'm sorry."

We sat in silence until the waiter asked for my order. I asked for an iced tea and said we'd hold off on the food for now. So far, things hadn't gone so smoothly. I didn't know if trying to sit through an entire dinner would be the best thing right now.

Clark took a long drink from his beer and looked over at me. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that."

At least he was trying. I owed it to myself to give him the benefit of the doubt. With a shrug I said, "I've snapped at you plenty of times. I guess I deserved it."

"No, you didn't. I just wasn't thinking. I was anxious to talk to you and just got ahead of myself. I'm sorry."

That was the third time in about as many minutes that he had said he was sorry. "Will you stop apologizing? People make mistakes."

"Except that my mistakes are a bit bigger than the average ones. I don't think I can apologize enough."

"For forgetting how old I am?"

His eyes met mine bravely. "For everything. For everything that I've ever done that hurt you in some way."

"Hey. Whoa. Wait." I held up my hands and leaned back in my chair. "What brought this on again? I didn't come here to be all moody and remorseful or place blame or argue. I just came here to talk."

I could tell he was confused. "But usually when you want to talk it's to yell at me for something I did wrong."

That hurt, but he was right. "Not tonight," I corrected.

He squinted at me. "I didn't do anything wrong this time?"

A chuckle escaped me. "Not since the last time we talked. No."

He took a deep breath, relief crossing his face as he smiled. "We haven't talked in a long time. I thought you were still upset with me about… everything."

Feeling a bit guilty, I looked down. "I guess that's something I need to work on. Kate accused me of something similar when I didn't talk to her about something right away."

"How is Kate?" he asked hesitantly.

"She's good. She wants to meet you – officially."

The waiter chose that moment to return to the table with my drink, another beer for Clark, and asked for our orders. The conversation had perked up a bit in the last few moments, so I ordered a burger and fries. Clark did the same.

He ran his hand through his hair and took a drink before picking up where we left off. "She wants to meet me officially, huh?"

"Well, not _you_ but… the other you. You know what I mean."

He hummed thoughtfully and I interpreted it to be that he didn't approve.

"She already knows pretty much everything, so what's the big deal?"

"It's not a big deal," he said, shifting forward in his seat. "Does she know… _me_?" He pointed to himself to emphasize his meaning.

"No. How would she?"

"True."

"So she just wants to talk to…"

I nodded.

He inhaled through his teeth. "Okay. When?"

"Whenever you have time. Sooner rather than later, if that's fine with you."

He frowned. "What do you want me to say to her?"

"I dunno," I shrugged. "I guess that depends on what she wants to say to you."

"And that would be…?"

I laughed. "I dunno."

"You're a lot of help." He smiled and took a drink. His face took on a pensive look. "You told me her mom died in a fire, right?"

"Yeah."

"So she'll probably want to know why I didn't help."

I shrugged. "It's possible."

"Which I have no excuse for." He leaned back in his seat, his eyes downcast and sorrowful. "I should have been there. I guess I can add that to my list of failures."

"Will you stop it already?" I scowled at him. "Look, I'm willing to talk to you and work through things, but you can't go pulling this 'woe is me!' crap every time I mention something that went wrong."

"But I feel badly about it."

"Well, so do I. I feel badly about a lot of stuff, but the more I think about that stuff, the worse things seem to be. We both have said and done things that we shouldn't have, right?"

He nodded. "To put it mildly."

"Okay, so I say we need to move on then."

"But it's difficult to move on when there is so much pain in the past."

Putting a stop to the conversation, the food arrived and we took a moment to settle down and calm the nerves. I squirted my usual helping of mustard on my plate and dipped my fries in. I avoided Clark's eyes and he avoided mine. After a few bites of food, Clark spoke up again, nervous and tense as ever.

"What is it that you want from me, Jason?" He shifted. "No, what is it that you _need _from me? I'll do whatever you ask to mend things as best as I can."

I swallowed my food and decided to start with something simple. "Well, I'd like more chances to talk – to meet up with you more often. I don't see how we will ever get past this anxiety between us unless we spend more time together on a regular basis."

He seemed rather surprised, and stated as much. "What about staying away from you – staying out of your life?"

I offered him a smile. "That's rather pointless, isn't it? Besides, there are things I have questions about. I mean, I hardly even know you outside of the obvious. I didn't even know you drank beer."

He smiled back at me. "I would love to spend more time together, Jason. There's nothing I want more than a real relationship with you."

"Okay, so then we should just plan to do this kind of thing more often."

"Absolutely," he grinned.

I looked him squarely in the eyes. "Second of all, I need you to tell mom the truth."

He sighed deeply, slumping back in his seat.

"You promised you would," I reminded him.

"I know I did, and I will. I just need… time."

"How much time," I frowned.

He sniffed. "Well, I've been thinking about it and… I would very much like to be at your wedding."

I made a face. "My wedding? What's that got to do with anything?"

"Everything. I anticipate that Lois won't be too happy with me once she learns the truth."

"I can agree with that." I had a feeling Mom would go ballistic, but it was something that needed to be done regardless of how much it would hurt. It didn't surprise me that he seemed worried about telling her. He should be. After all, I didn't get my temper from Clark.

"Seeing as how I can't very well attend your wedding as… Superman," he mumbled almost inaudibly, "I'm going to have to show up as Clark. If Lois is angry at me for not telling her sooner, then I doubt she will be happy about having me at the wedding. I don't want to ruin another important event in your life, Jason. So if it's all right with you, I would like to wait until after you are married to tell Lois everything."

I thought for a moment. "You realize that we aren't going to get married for a few years yet. We want to graduate first."

"I know." He looked back at me with pleading eyes, hopeful that I would see his reasoning and agree to it.

"Okay," I said after a long pause. "But it has to be soon after the wedding… whenever that may be. Not two or three months."

"Fine." But I could tell that it wasn't fine. It was far from fine. His face was somber as he picked at his food, almost as if I had issued a death sentence with my request.

"I'm not asking you to do this to be mean," I explained. "I'm asking you because I can't keep lying. Pretending for the world is one thing, but hiding all of this from Mom is something else. I can't keep it up."

He nodded. "I understand. It was unfair of me to even ask it of you in the first place."

"Yeah, it was," I agreed. He looked up at me in surprise. "But you know if I've learned anything over the last few months it's that there is no greater relief than being honest with the people you love. I was so worried about Kate knowing the truth, but now it's like this huge weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. I want to kick myself for waiting as long as I did to tell her everything. I can't even imagine going for twenty years keeping a secret like this."

"Your mother did know at one point. She knew everything."

"But she doesn't remember that."

"Jason…" His eyes shifted away from mine, lost somewhere in the past. I held my breath and waited for whatever information he would pass to me. "She wasn't Lois. Instead of this formidable, challenging woman, she was miserable… sad… always crying…" His voice became a whisper. "I'd never seen her cry like that. I couldn't just leave her like that. I loved her too much. I still love her."

It had always been uncomfortable for me to hear him speak of how much he loved my mother, mostly for the unwanted reminder it brought to the surface that he was, indeed, my father. But this time as he said it I only felt sorrow for him. I too had been faced with the possibility of losing the woman I loved, so I now had a better understanding of what it must have felt like to have come so close only to lose in the end. He did love my mother. I understood that now better than ever before. He loved her, and just like he had with me, he'd made the wrong choices in trying to show her his love.

"Hey," I said, trying to draw him out of his memory. "If someone would have told me a year ago that I'd be sitting here having lunch with you and not arguing, I wouldn't have believed them. So anything's possible, right?"

He smiled softly, "I'll keep that in mind." Suddenly, his eyes lingered on my plate. "You dip your fries in mustard," he said in amazement.

"Yeah, so?" It was something I'd become used to over the years. Not being a fan of ketchup, I preferred mustard to the sugary, sweet tomato paste.

He was still looking at my food in wonder. "Who taught you that?"

"I dunno. No one really. I just don't like ketchup."

A chuckle escaped him and he placed a hand over his mouth. "My dad hated ketchup, so we never had it. We always dipped our fries in mustard, which I thought was weird. So one day at school – I must have been ten or eleven – I tried the ketchup. I didn't like it at all. It was too… sweet."

"Sugary," I offered.

"Exactly." His eyes met mine. "I especially like mustard on pretzels."

My brows shot up. "Really? Me, too. My favorite is this guy over by Centennial Park."

"Mahfood's pretzels?"

"Yeah, that's the guy."

"Best pretzels in Metropolis."

We stared at each other for a moment, taken by surprise that two people could actually bond over mustard and pretzels. "Well that proves it then, doesn't it?" My voice dropped in volume. "Forget the sensitive hearing – the super-strength – the x-ray vision. Those things are just clues to make me wonder. But the mustard – the _mustard_ proves that I'm…" It was supposed to be a joke, but for some reason I got hung up on the punch line.

"That you're my son," he finished for me without hesitation. He picked up a fry, smothered it in mustard, and held it up. "Cheers."

I followed suit. "Cheers."


	26. Age 21: When Kate met Clark

_AN: It's been a while. I've been so busy this summer, so I apologize for the dely. I hope to have a more set writing schedule to get through the rest of this. We don't have that much further to go. That said, I really hope you enjoy the change of pace that I think this chapter offers. It's a bit lighter and certainly funnier than what I've done in the past. I know – humor? In THIS fic? Yes, indeed! In fact, htbthomas did a spit take on one line, which made me very proud! _

_Many thanks to the ever supportive van-el who always pushes me to write more and more. To the betas – htbthomas for pulling me out of passive voice, yet again, and Hellish Red Devil for all her funny side comments. And thanks to all of you who have stuck with me this long and let me take Jason in a direction that is a bit darker. I promise though that the "happy ending" is around the corner. _

**Age 21: When Kate met Clark**

Several things happened over the next few months that changed my life in so many ways, and it was surprising to me that for the first time in my life all of those changes were for the best. In the past when change had been forced upon me, it upset life and complicated things. But this time the changes made things easier.

The first thing that changed was Kate's own feelings towards Superman. After my chat with Clark I figured that it would take a while before they would come face-to-face, but he took matters into his own hands and came to see her within days of the request being made. I'm not sure who was more nervous – Kate, Superman, or me. We all acted as if any moment the bubble would pop and all hell would break lose, especially when the conversation came around to the topic of her mother. However, that never happened. In fact, it was quite the opposite.

To my surprise, it had been Superman who broached the matter. "Jason told me about your mother."

Kate's eyes grew wide, both with surprise and with a touch of anger.

Before she could comment, Superman took a step closer to her and said in the most sincere voice I'd ever heard, "I'm sorry, Kate. I'm so sorry. I made a terrible mistake. I only hope that someday you can forgive me and accept that even though I try very hard to do what's right, at the end of the day I'm just a man who makes mistakes like everyone else."

Kate held his gaze. "You're not a god."

"No, I'm not."

"You don't decide who lives and who dies."

"If I could, Kate, I would stop everyone from being killed by tragedies such as your mother's – and that goes for good people _and_ criminals. But contrary to popular belief, I can't be in two places at once."

"But you could have been there for my mother," she said boldly.

"Yes," he confirmed. "I could have been there, and for that I will forever be sorry."

The change came after that moment. It seemed to be exactly what Kate needed to hear – that he knew he had been wrong. For him to admit to being fallible eased some of her own pain that she had been harboring for so many years. I can't say that they became best friends, but they weren't enemies either. In fact, Kate said she hoped to see more of him, to get to know him better, which I took as a very good sign.

Getting to know my father better meant that she needed to know who he was – meaning she needed to meet Clark. I didn't think that would be too much of a problem. After all, I knew he would be at the competition I was going to participate in at the end of the year. She would certainly meet him then, if not sooner.

However, having Clark at the competition posed a difficulty I hadn't considered when I first asked him to come. For the last few years, I had been very vocal about my dislike for a certain reporter at the Daily Planet, and my mother was well aware of it. I'd once made such a big scene about how aggravating I thought Clark was that I got myself grounded for three weeks. I couldn't very well ask him to take one of my four tickets without some kind of logical explanation for why I was suddenly befriending him. It would be a heck of a lot easier had Clark just agreed to tell mom the truth and have done with it. Then she would understand fully why I wanted Clark there. But as he pointed out, if Mom knew the truth and then had to appear in public with Clark, she would probably make a scene.

That left me with not much of a choice but to pretend to go through the show of making friends with Clark again. Clark was in on it, of course, so he had to pretend, too. It was so incredibly awkward and uncomfortable, but it had to be done. I'm not sure which one of us felt more ridiculous, me or Clark. I would show up at the Daily Planet to talk to Mom or Dad – usually it was some silly made up reason I was there. Then as casually as he could, Clark would say hello to me and I would smile and say hello back. We did that a few times until we felt we could have a short conversation. It came to a head one day a few weeks later when I actually made a point to talk to him in perfect view of my mother.

"What's all that about?" Mom asked as she tried not to look too surprised.

I gave a casual shrug. "Nothing really."

She looked over at Clark, who was doing a fine job of not showing any signs that he was listening to us. "I thought you hated Clark Kent."

Another shrug. It seemed to be my only way of looking casual while feeling like an idiot. "I think that was just my teenage self rejecting anyone who wasn't totally cool. You know how it is."

Her smile was small, almost imperceptible. "You and Clark used to be buddies."

"I know." I could only see his profile, but I knew Clark could hear me. "He was really nice to me when I was a kid."

"He was." She went back to typing on her computer. "Did you apologize to him for being a teenage cretin?"

"Well," I drawled, "I had an idea about that. He asked me about my music the other day and I thought…" I took a deep breath and readied myself for the confusion that I was sure would come from my mother. "I thought I might invite him to the contest next month."

She turned her face ever so slightly, but didn't look up at me. "Are you sure? I mean, you only get four tickets, right?"

"Right."

"And you want to give one of them to… Clark?"

"Yeah."

She stopped typing again and frowned. My breath hitched for a moment since I was sure she would tell me she thought I was a bit off my rocker. But it didn't happen.

"Okay," she said, still frowning. "It's your ticket, I suppose."

I was too surprised to say anything.

"What about Aunt Lucy?" she asked.

I had already prepared myself for this excuse. "I thought of that, but I didn't think it would be nice since I wouldn't be able to invite Uncle Ron."

She looked up at me. "You have two more tickets, don't you?"

"I have _one_ ticket, Mom. Kate will be there, you know." I didn't hide the annoyance I felt at the fact that my mother still hadn't totally accepted that Kate was a permanent fixture in my life.

She sighed. "That's right. Why do I keep forgetting that?"

"I dunno, but I wish you'd start remembering her."

Mom went back to her typing. "I suppose Kate will get one of the seats up front and center?"

"No, Mom, she won't. You and Dad will have those seats, like always." I had four tickets total: two in the balcony area and two in the orchestra. The orchestra seats were better seats and that much more expensive. That's why we were only given two of them.

"Doesn't that mean that Clark will have to sit with Kate?" she continued.

"Yeah, it does," I said, "but that will be okay."

"Whatever you want, Jason," she said dismissively.

I turned and caught Clark's eyes as I walked away from her desk, only to hear Mom mumble under her breath, "I've often though that Clark needed to see a therapist. Maybe this will be a good thing."

Clark shrugged and went back to his work.

And that was that. I'd expected more confusion. I'd expected her to insist that I invite my aunt instead. I hadn't expected her to just accept it like that, but I wasn't about to complain. I'd done what I'd needed to do and now Clark could show up at my competition without raising suspicion.

Now all that was left was for Kate to meet Clark. I considered telling her flat out who he was, but then I thought it might be better to let her meet him first and then drop the bomb on her. Actually, I was kind of hoping she was smart enough to see through his charade and realize the truth on her own. Not to mention that I was a bit stressed anyway about the competition and I didn't want to add the worry of whether Kate would accentually slip up in front of my mom and spill the beans. No, it would be better to tell Kate after she met Clark face-to-face.

The month leading up to the competition was a real struggle though. I think had I been more human than Kryptonian, I would have practiced my fingers off. Kate was so sick of hearing the same pieces that eventually I just stuck to rehearsing at the school. There was even one Saturday that I wasn't allowed to mention the competition at all. All I could do was "just relax," as Kate put it. Even though I fought Kate tooth and toenail about going a whole day without touching a piano, it was just what I had needed. It was more proof for me that Kate knew me better than anyone ever had.

The morning of the big event, I played through my pieces and then went to pick up my tux from the rental place. Kate went with me, of course. She pretty much stuck by me all day long, keeping me sane, and she provided a few simple distractions as well - like the image of her in a knockout pale blue dress that fit her like a glove. Had it not been for the fact that I needed to arrive early at the concert hall, I don't think she would have been wearing the dress for too long.

When we did finally make it to the theatre, the place was already filling up with audience members as well as participants. Mom and Dad met us at the prearranged location in the lobby. It was only a few minutes later that Clark arrived. He was as polite as could be to Kate, if still a bit jittery, but that was part of the Clark disguise. I noticed that Kate eyed him suspiciously, and I wondered if she was starting to put the pieces together, but I didn't have time to speculate. Before I knew it, Mom and Kate both gave me good luck kisses and off I went to my place backstage.

I was surprisingly calm as I waited for my turn at the piano. I could hear the other competitors, but they didn't make me as nervous as I thought they would. It wasn't until the applause for the pianist right before me started to fade that I felt the real nerves kick in. My name was called, and I boldly stepped out onto the stage and made the long walk over to the piano. I took a deep breath, willing my nerves to calm down, and started in on my first piece.

I don't remember much about playing the two pieces. I just remember that my fingers seemed to work of their own accord. The idea that I was being watched by hundreds of people didn't occur to me at all. I just played through the music as if I were at home and playing for Kate. When I reached the final notes of my second piece, I knew I was home free and that I had made it. Regardless of the standings at the end of it all, I had made my way through two difficult pieces of music and had played for my largest audience yet. I felt very accomplished and proud of myself. That feeling would only be eclipsed by the jubilation I felt when only an hour later I was named as the third place finalist.

"Third place!" Kate screeched when I joined her and my parents later. Her arms flew around me and she kissed me so openly, I was almost afraid that Mom would frown at us. To my relief she didn't. "You were amazing, Jason!" She kissed me again, mumbling, "I love you," against my mouth.

I turned to see Mom and Dad smiling widely at me. Dad hugged me first, followed by Mom, who held on a bit longer than normal. "I'm so proud of you, honey," she said softly. "I know how much this means to you."

And then my eyes fell on Clark, who was also smiling. Beaming was actually a better word for it. He looked like he was ready to come out of his skin with excitement. He shook my hand and awkwardly clapped me on the shoulder. I could tell he really wanted to hug me, too, but was resisting. "You were… wonderful, Jason. Just… amazing."

"Thanks," I grinned sheepishly.

The reception for the winners lasted nearly as long as the competition itself. Clark didn't stay long, and I knew it had something to do with a Superman-related emergency. Mom and Dad left a little later. However, Kate stayed with me the whole time. Around midnight I noticed that she looked rather worn out, rubbing her sore feet and fighting to appear interested in whatever topic was being discussed at the moment. I excused myself, wrapped my arm around her, and escorted her outside.

"Let's get out of here," I suggested.

"Don't you have elbows to rub?"

I shook my head. "I've done what I needed to do. I got lots of phone numbers and have a few interesting prospects. I just want some quiet now."

She sighed in relief. "Me too."

Her high-heeled shoes were kicked off her feet within seconds of getting into the car. I shrugged out of my tux coat and undid my bowtie along with the top button of my collar. Kate gave me a devilishly charming smile and leaned over to kiss me.

"Have I ever told you that I am a sucker for a man in a tux?" She played with the button on my shirtfront. "Or out of a tux. Take your pick."

I kissed her in reply, drawing her closer to me and running my fingers through her glorious hair. After a few moments, we were both left slightly breathless and thoroughly disheveled.

Kate moaned in pleasure as she sank back against her own seat. "The sooner we get home the better."

"My sentiments exactly," I agreed as I started the car and headed out of the parking garage.

Shifting to her side so that she could look at me better, Kate wove her fingers though mine and said, "Your mom was really nice to me tonight."

I smiled. "She was? Good."

"I was a little nervous," Kate admitted, "but we didn't spend a whole lot of time together, so I think that made it easier for us both. Still, when we did talk, things seemed fine."

"Good," I repeated. "I need you two to get along."

Kate hummed thoughtfully. "She even admired my dress."

"What's not to admire?"

The comment earned me a kiss on the cheek. "I'd offer more, but I don't want to distract you."

For a few moments we sat in agreeable silence, but I knew it wouldn't last for long. I was too desperate to know what Kate thought of Clark to keep quiet much longer. "So," I started in, drawing out the vowel sound a little longer than necessary. "How was it sitting with Clark?"

She smirked and made that humming noise again. "Clark is… a very interesting man."

Interesting? She was being coy with her words. "How so?" I pressed.

"Well… just… he's different. You know."

"Different how?" I needed specifics.

"Just…" She pursed her lips together and looked at me very hesitantly.

"What?"

"Okay," she sighed. "Look, I know he's your friend and all, and some people just want certain things left unsaid, but really…" She chuckled. "He's not fooling anybody."

My eyebrows shot up. "Fooling? What do you mean?"

"Well, I mean… duh." She started gesturing in small circles with her hands. "It's just – I mean – you just have to look at him to know. I mean, it's obvious."

I gaped at her. "You think it's obvious?"

"It's _blatantly_ obvious."

I pointed at her and then pounded the steering wheel in triumph. "I knew you'd see it. I just knew it! I knew I couldn't be the only one who thought it was obvious!"

"You mean, nobody knows?"

"No, nobody, and I don't get how they can't see it."

"More than that," Kate said, "I don't understand why he thinks he has to hide it. He'd probably be a lot more comfortable if he'd just stop lying to everyone."

"Yes! Exactly! That is exactly what I have been trying to say for all these years." I was overcome with excitement that someone else seemed to understand my own frustration that I almost didn't catch Kate's next comment.

"Although, your mom would probably freak out when she realized his attention to you."

That took me a bit by surprise.

"Still," she continued. "He should just come out and tell everyone."

I nodded. "I know. I've tried to tell him that for years."

"How he's able to fool anyone is beyond me."

"It's the worst disguise ever," I stated. "Come on. Really. A pair of glasses isn't much of a disguise."

Kate frowned at me. "A pair of glasses? What does wearing glasses have to do with being gay?"

Her words shocked me so completely that I jerked the car to the side of the road and slammed on the breaks. "_What_?'' I gasped. "_Gay_?"

She looked back at me with a stunned expression. "Clark. He's gay."

"No, he's not."

"Yes, he is."

"No, he's not, Kate. Believe me."

She leaned away from me. "Jason, look, you may be a bit too close to the situation to see it, but the man is gay."

"No, he isn't."

She didn't seem to hear me. "On second thought, I would have assumed that you knew very well that he was gay given the fact that he's in love with you."

That was an even heavier blow to take. "He's _what_?"

"Come on, Jason. You have to have noticed how he looks at you. I hadn't spent five minutes with the man before I realized that he was head over heels for you."

I ran my hands through my hair. "Oh boy, have you misunderstood everything," I mumbled.

"I haven't misunderstood," she insisted. "I saw it with my own eyes. The way he lit up when you talked to him. The way he read and reread your bio in the program. He was very nearly crying over it he was so emotional. And when you played, I swear the man was about to drool. He is totally in love with you."

I thought about it for a moment. "He may_ love_ me, but he isn't _in_ love with me. There is a big difference."

"So then you know he feels that way about you?"

I chuckled under my breath at how far I'd come in understanding Clark's way of showing that he cared for me. "Yeah, I do."

"I don't think it's funny," Kate scolded. "It was a bit creepy, actually."

"Kate—"

"I was actually trying to think of a nice way to tell him that I didn't appreciate the way he was acting, but I thought he might make a scene and I didn't want to ruin your night."

"Really, Kate, you've got it wrong."

"How long have you known him, anyway?" she asked.

The question didn't make any more sense to me than the rest of the conversation. "Since I was five, why?"

"Because now I'm really creeped out. If he's known you that long, then he's been trolling after you for years."

"Trolling?"

"Bridget's brother is gay and he told us all about the trolls once."

"Trolls?"

"Older gay men who watch younger men."

My head was spinning I was so dizzy from her words. I rested my head against the steering wheel. "Kate, it isn't what you think."

"It isn't?"

"No," I said firmly.

"Because from where I'm sitting, it seems pretty disgusting. Clark has every right to be gay, but he should at least be open about it. And he needs to realize that not only are you straight, but you are also taken. Even if you weren't, it still wouldn't be right. I mean, the man is old enough to be your father!"

I turned slowly to look at her and very slowly said, "That's because he_ is_ my father."

Kate's brows scrunched together in confusion. "He's what?"

"My father."

She still didn't get it. "I thought Superman was your father?"

I nodded. "He is."

"But then, how can Clark be—"

She got it then. Her face went from confusion to realization to total incredulity in seconds. It hit her like a ton of bricks. "NO!" she gasped.

"Yes."

"_NO_!"

"Yes."

"But— but he's—" she stumbled over her thoughts. "He's an idiot!"

"Actually, when you consider that he's managed to pull off the biggest lie for about thirty years, he's not so much of an idiot."

She gaped at me. "You're being serious. Clark Kent is Superman?"

"Yes, and don't say that too loudly."

"But—" Kate shook her head, flabbergasted, still trying to wrap her brain around this new bit of information. "But… he doesn't even talk the same."

"It's the Clark voice," I explained. "He uses his upper register for Clark and his lower register for Superman. His normal voice – his real voice – the one he uses when it's just the two of us and no one else is around - is somewhere in between."

"Your mom and dad don't know, do they?"

"No, they don't."

"How is that even possible?" she wondered.

"I don't know. Yet when you consider that Mom doesn't even remember… you know…" I let the thought trail off. I still wasn't comfortable talking about my biological parents' relationship.

Kate slumped back in her seat. "This is unbelievable. Just… wow." She turned her head to look at me. "How long have you known who he was?"

"I knew he was Superman before I even knew he was my father. From the first time I met him, really. I saw a picture of Superman on the TV while Clark was standing right there and I just knew."

Her face contorted in worry as she pondered everything. "Tell me something, your relationship with him – how strained it was for all those years – this secret was a major part of that, right?"

I nodded wordlessly.

"You had the chance to be with your father as an ordinary person like Clark Kent and yet no one knew he was your father."

She got it in one. "You know, one of the reasons I used to think he didn't want my mom to know his real identify was so that he wouldn't have to be with me as much – so he had an excuse to stay away."

"Oh, Jason," she sighed sadly.

"But I understand now that his wanting to keep this a secret from Mom doesn't have anything to do with me. Well," I corrected myself, "it does, but it's more about having to own up to lying to her for all these years. He's afraid of how she'll react."

"I would be, too, if I were him," she agreed.

"Why?"

"How angry was I when I found out you had been lying to me about who you really were?"

I grimaced.

"And that was only after a year or so of us being together," she continued. "Your parents have a lifetime of secrets between them, not to mention a child. It's a whole new ballgame when you toss a child into the mix."

"I'm not a child anymore."

"No, but you are still _their_ child. That is something very intimate that they share, more intimate than just sex." She shook her head and looked away from me. "Given your mother's temper, Clark should be very worried."

I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat. "He's going to tell her pretty soon because I asked him to."

She looked surprised. "How soon?"

"After the wedding. He thinks it will make things awkward if she knows before then, and he doesn't want to miss out on our wedding day."

Kate took my hand. "That sounds reasonable I suppose." She gave my hand a squeeze. "You think we could head home now that the shock has worn off? I'm getting sleepy again."

I smiled and pulled the car back out onto the road. We were quiet for a few moments, both of us thinking about everything that we'd just talked about.

"He really does love you, Jason," Kate said, breaking the silence.

"I know," I said softly.

"And I'm glad he'll be able to be at the wedding."

"Me too," I agreed. "So…" I slurred. "Just to be clear, you still don't think Clark is gay, do you?"

"No," she smiled. "But he really needs to tone down the dork act if he expects me to dance with him at our wedding."


	27. Age 22 part one: United

_AN: This chapter is a necessary evil. I can't write a story about Jason's life and exclude his wedding, right? But I really hate wedding fics! They are really happy sappy and there are only so many things you can do in them, especially since I just wrote a wedding fic for Lois and Clark for the last 12 days challenge. So I hope you don't find it too sappy or anti-climactic. _

_Lots of thanks to htbthomas and Hellish Red devil for their fantastic beta reading skills. They did double duty for me this week since I sent them TWO fics to read. You will see that second fic in a day or so. It will be the dreaded "reveal" fic where Clark spills the beans and will posted separate from this fic over at the 12days live journal community. _

**Age 22 part one – United**

Nervousness was never something I dealt with very well. The feeling usually came in various manageable levels: .Being nervous before a test was expected. Being nervous before a concert was something I'd come to rely on and use to better my performance. So why was it that when it came to dealing with anything important regarding the opposite sex, I always fell apart?

I awoke on the morning of June twenty-fifth and habitually reached over to my left, seeking the soft, warm skin of the woman who usually shared my bed only to find empty space. The sheets were cold and there was no sign that anyone had even touched her side of the bed last night. I sighed and buried my face in her pillow, inhaling the lingering scent of her shampoo and missing her deeply. A quick glance at the clock softened the ache I felt, for it would only be a few hours until I would see her again. After that, she would be with me forever.

Not that it had been that long since I had seen her. For all intents and purposes, everyone who mattered would assume that Kate and I hadn't seen each other since around two o'clock yesterday afternoon when we were each sent off to our respective locations to hide out for the next twenty-four hours until the wedding. Kate wanted a traditional wedding, and that meant going by the rules of the bride and groom spending the evening before their big day with their respective friends at some sort of ritualistic prenuptial party. I had come to understand that things worked best when the bride was happy, and so I went along with the plan and spent the night trying to keep my friends from forcing too much alcohol down my throat as well as keeping my mind off the fact that the only place I really wanted to be was wherever Kate was.

"You aren't being much fun," Lance complained early on in the evening. "It's your last night of freedom! Live it up! Enjoy it!"

What he didn't understand was that for me, the best way to enjoy my night was to be next to Kate. I didn't look at getting married as losing my freedom at all. It was what I wanted – what I needed to be happy.

I called an end to my bachelor party around eleven, feigning the need for some sleep so I wouldn't look hung over at the wedding, and headed home. Within moments of flopping down on my bed my phone rang. To my pleasant surprise, it was Kate.

"Hi there," she said softly.

"Hi yourself. I didn't think you'd call. Isn't this against the rules?"

"There isn't anything against the bride and groom talking to each other. Where are you anyway?"

"Home."

"Already? What about your party?"

"It's still going on, but I left."

"Oh," she sighed. "Where did you go?"

"To a couple of bars. You know Lance, he was trying to get me as many free drinks as possible."

"That sounds like him. Did you do anything else?"

I knew what she was trying to ask, and I was going to make her dig for it. "You know, it was all the typical bachelor stuff."

"_All_ the typical stuff?" She sounded concerned.

I chuckled. "Mostly."

"Meaning…?"

"What exactly do you want to know, Kate?"

I heard her exhale. "Did you go to a strip club? Mallory said Lance was planning on taking you to a strip club."

I grinned. "We went to one, yes."

"Oh." Even in one small sound I could hear the heavy disappointment.

"But we didn't go in," I added.

"You didn't?"

"Nope."

"Why not?"

"Because I told Lance that I didn't need to pay money to see some trashy women take their clothes off."

"Really?" I could hear the smile in her voice.

I went on, wanting to make her smile even more. "If I wanted to see a beautiful naked woman, I would have just stayed home with you tonight. In fact, I told him that was one of the perks to getting married. I can see you naked whenever I want to."

"Jason! You didn't!" she whined.

"What?"

"You can't talk to Lance about me being naked!"

"Why not? He knows we've made love. He knows I've seen you naked."

"Jason!"

"What?"

"You don't have to be so _obvious_ about it!"

I laughed out loud, knowing that she was probably blushing bright red about now.

"You're awful, you know that?" she scolded with a small chuckle.

"I'm awful? I turn down free entrance to a strip club because the only woman I ever want to see naked again isn't going to be there, and you think that's awful?"

"No, I think that's wonderful, but you didn't need to talk about me naked."

"I like you naked."

"Well, I like _you_ naked."

"Good."

"Good."

The conversation came to a standstill as various images of Kate filled my mind. I hoped that she was thinking of me in the same way. I tried to ignore the way my body responded to the very idea of it all and focused on her gentle breathing.

"So, what did you do tonight?" I asked after a long pause.

"Oh, you know, typical bachelorette party stuff."

I hummed thoughtfully. "Let me guess, you sat around drinking champagne and watching chick flicks all night until the male stripper showed up."

My teasing comment was met with silence, which did not bode well.

"Kate? Tell me that isn't what happened."

"Not exactly. We had champagne, but we didn't watch chick flicks."

"And the male stripper?"

"Well…"

I did not like the way she said that. "Kate?"

"Mallory said that since Lance was taking you out that I should have my fun, too."

I groaned in anger and frustration. I knew there wasn't any cause for concern, but the idea of any man but me being with Kate in that way, even in jest, really made me furious.

"That's why I called you," she continued. "I got really upset with Mallory for doing that. I told her that I didn't think it was right and that I didn't want to be a part of it. But since he was paid for his services , if the rest of them wanted to have their fun, I wouldn't stop them. Then I came up here and called you."

I sat up straight on the bed. "Hang on a sec – you mean the stripper is there now?"

"Yes."

"And you aren't with your friends?"

"No."

"Are they all busy watching the stripper?"

"Yes."

"And you are alone?"

"Yes." From the way she pulled out the vowel sound, I had a feeling she understood what I was going to suggest.

"Where are you?"

"I'm up here in the boxes."

"The boxes" was how she had come to refer to her room at her former apartment. Danielle and Taylor, her roommates, hadn't yet found a replacement to take her room. It was all good and fine for Kate, though, since it meant that she didn't have to rush to move her things out to make way for a new girl. Slowly, day-by-day since graduation, Kate would fill up a box and bring it over to the new apartment. By now, all that was left was the bed, a nearly empty dresser, and the rest of the boxes she had yet to transport to our place.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" I asked.

"I'm thinking that you could be over here in ten minutes," she answered.

"Five," I corrected.

She giggled, "Okay, but you can't stay long."

"No problem."

I hung up the phone and was out the door and down the street before anyone could even take notice of me. When I reached Kate's apartment, I stole a glance at the party going on in the living room, just to make sure everyone was thoroughly distracted. Satisfied that no one would notice me, I used the emergency fire escape to get up to Kate's room without being seen by her roommates. A moment later, Kate was in my arms.

"We really shouldn't be doing this," she mumbled against my mouth.

"Yes, we should." I discarded my shirt and resumed my kisses.

"We have to be quiet," she said as she pulled off her own tank top.

"I can be very quiet."

"And you have to leave in twenty minutes."

I pulled back to look down at her. "Why?"

"Because then it will be midnight and you can't see me on the day of our wedding."

I huffed and nodded. "Okay then. Twenty minutes." And I kissed her again.

Regrettably she held me to the midnight rule and I was sent back home to my lonely apartment exactly twenty minutes later. I was certain that everything would be just perfect and easygoing come morning that I slept very peacefully, feeling secure in my decisions and the future.

But that was last night. Daylight changes things. Time changes things. Maybe it was the actual date that got me all worked up. I was fine last night, especially when I was with Kate. I even felt pretty good this morning. However, as the morning progressed into the late morning and early afternoon, I grew more and more nervous.

I hated it. More than that, I hated that I couldn't place _why_ I felt this way. I loved Kate with all my heart. I knew we were doing the right thing. It was what I wanted – what I needed. Yet here I was pacing back and forth in one of the larger classrooms at the church where I would be getting married in less than an hour. And I was nervous as hell. Lance had been about as helpful as he could be, trying to reassure me and offering me something to drink to help ease my jitters.

I couldn't stand still. I couldn't sit down. I couldn't calm down. I nearly wore out the carpet pacing back and forth over the same path, unsure of why I was feeling the way I was. Mom fussed over me, pinning and readjusting my boutonniere and fixing my tie, which only made things worse. Luckily Dad took pity on me and sent her off to see that everything was in place and that the ceremony would start on schedule. Once we were alone, Dad had me sit down and take a few deep breaths.

"You're going to be fine," he assured me.

I only shook my head in disagreement. "Why am I feeling like this?"

"You mean, why are you feeling nervous?"

"Yeah, exactly. I don't want to be nervous. I wasn't nervous at all until a few hours ago. I don't have any good reason to be nervous. This is what I want. I want to be here. I want to marry her. I want to spend the rest of my life with her, so why the hell do I feel like I'm about to come out of my skin?"

Dad smiled back at me. "Because you love her."

"What?"

"You feel nervous because you love her and you want things to go well."

I grimaced. "That doesn't make any sense."

He chuckled and sat down next to me. "Emotions rarely make sense, especially when those emotions are tied to a woman."

I looked over at him expectantly, as if he hadn't finished everything he needed to say.

"Everybody's nervous on their wedding day, Jason," he explained. "It's practically a fact of life. It doesn't have anything to do with being worried about the future or second-guessing your decision to be together. All it means is that you want everything to go well, the way you planned it – the way _she_ planned it. Most women dream about their wedding days from the time they are just little girls until the day itself. So when the actual day arrives, it's a real dream come true for them. The fact that you are nervous just means that you understand that and you want the day to be the most special day ever for the woman you love. And you know that us guys generally mess things up. So, you just put one foot in front of the other and get through it as best as you can. Then when it's all said and done a couple hours from now, you'll wonder why you were nervous at all."

I sighed. "A couple hours from now, huh?"

"Well, give or take."

"What does that mean?"

"Are you nervous about the reception?"

"Not really."

He frowned and looked away from me. "You're not nervous about… _tonight_… are you?"

I blinked. "No!"

"'Cause if you needed to talk—"

"No, I don't!"

"I figured you'd already—"

"DAD!" I exclaimed, stopping him from going any further.

"Okay, I was just checking."

I covered my face with my hands, sure that I turned five shades of red. "I can't believe you sometimes."

He was still chuckling. "Why?"

"You pick the damndest times to get personal."

"Hey, it took your mind off your nerves, didn't it?"

I opened my mouth to reply and found that I didn't have a snappy comeback for him. I resorted to shaking my head and slumping back against my chair.

The clock chimed quarter 'till, breaking the mood completely.

"Let me go check and see if they are ready for you up front."

I nodded and stood up to brush out any wrinkles in preparation for my walk to the front of the church. A few seconds after Dad left, a knock came from the door at the other side of the room. I squinted my eyes to find Clark standing there looking almost as nervous as I felt. I opened the door and let him in.

"I hope I'm not intruding," he said as he entered the room timidly.

"No. Of course not."

"I saw Richard leave."

"He went to see if they were ready for me yet."

"Oh. Right. Well, I just wanted to see you."

"Mom wondered if you would show up. I mean, not _Clark_, but… you know."

He smiled. "I know. You can tell her I came by. As if I could miss my own son's wedding."

I smiled sheepishly and looked down at the floor. There was an uncomfortable pause as neither of us could find the right words to say next. To my utter relief, it was Clark that broke the silence.

"I'm very happy for you, Jason."

I met his eyes. "Thank you."

"And I'm so proud of you," he said in all sincerity.

I could only smile awkwardly. He'd only said that to me a handful of times. Each time I believed him more and more, but my stomach still did a little flip-flop of excitement in hearing him acknowledge it.

"Kate is a beautiful, intelligent woman, and I couldn't be happier for you that you have her to share your life with."

"Thanks," I said with a silly grin on my face. "I'm pretty happy about it, too."

He laughed softly, and then that uncomfortable silence filled the air between us once again. He shifted his weight nervously and I saw his hands open and close in a fist. He swallowed hard and took a step closer to me, hesitantly lifting one hand as if he wanted to touch me. The hand dropped and I noticed that his heart rate picked up speed.

Realizing what he wanted, I took a step forward, closing most of the distance between us. I opened my arms slightly and very softly said, "Thanks, Dad."

His arms wrapped around me gently as he hugged me. A soothing pat on my shoulder was followed by a quiet, "I love you, Jason. I really do."

The temptation to say it back to him for the first time was there, but I just wasn't ready. Besides, I didn't want him to think I was saying it because of the special circumstances of the day. Instead of repeating the sentiment, I said, "I know."

He pulled away from me and smiled brightly. Suddenly, his gaze flickered over to the wall in that way that told me he was seeing or hearing something outside of the room. "Richard's coming back," he explained.

I listened closely, and sure enough, Dad was telling one of the ushers that we were about ready to start.

"I have to go," Clark said.

"I hate this," I said, my smile fading completely. "That you can't be more involved in this day."

"Jason, I swear to you that I will be here all day. I'm not going to miss a moment."

"But as a friend of the family rather than my father."

His gaze drifted back over to where Dad was still talking out in the hallway. "But Richard—"

"Is my Dad too. Lots of people have two sets of parents, you know, when they get divorced and remarried."

"Jason," he sighed, "I will talk to Lois very soon. You have my word on that."

I knew he would follow through with his promise, but it still wouldn't change the fact that for today he couldn't be my father. Before I had the chance to complain any further, he vanished from sight out the back door just as Dad knocked on the opposite door.

They were ready for me.

The knot inside my gut tightened.

Dad clapped me on the shoulder and pulled me into an easy hug. "Don't worry," he reassured. "Just take a deep breath and know that you are making the right decision." He leaned back and smiled. "In spite of what you may think, your mom and I are really happy for you."

My eyebrows went up. "Thanks."

"Now… if I don't get you out there Kate will begin to think you are standing her up!"

I followed Dad out into the hall where we met up with Lance and my friend Marcus from high school. I'd also asked one of Kate's male cousins, Aaron, to be a groomsman since Kate had three bridesmaids. My friends kidded with me for a moment, trying to get me to relax a bit before we entered the sanctuary. Somehow I managed to follow them to the front of the room without falling down. The minister took his place and signaled to the back of the church just as the music changed.

One by one, the bridesmaids made their way down the aisle in their royal blue dresses. I laughed to myself remembering the argument Kate and I had over that particular color. She knew it wasn't my favorite, but she'd insisted on using a color that her friends might wear again someday. Kate had sworn that they would all look beautiful in blue, but I hardly noticed. I only had eyes for one woman, and she had just appeared in the doorway.

Looking as regal and as beautiful as any fairytale princess, Kate walked towards me with her arm draped over her father's. I had to blink to make sure I wasn't imagining things. There she was, looking only at me – smiling only at me – about to become my wife. She would no longer be my girlfriend or my fiancée, but my _wife_. She was so beautiful I couldn't take my eyes off of her for an instant. I couldn't imagine that any bride could ever be more beautiful than Kate was at this very moment.

Her father kissed her cheek and shook my hand before placing Kate's hand in mine. I stared at her all through the minister's speech, my mind racing through all the moments that had brought us to this one. The first time I saw her… our first kiss… asking her to marry me… holding her in my arms last night. She must have sensed what I was thinking about for she blushed and smiled and momentarily looked away from me.

Before I knew it, I was repeating the words the minister directed me to say. Kate did the same, only her voice sounded so much softer and more musical than mine ever could. Next I was slipping a ring on her delicate finger and holding my own hand out for her to do the same for me. I was holding my breath when a moment later the announcement came.

"You may now kiss your bride."

Kate smiled brightly, and I knew I was grinning like a fool, but I didn't care. I leaned down and met her lips in a slow, purposeful kiss that I hoped was as tasteful as it was passionate.

"Ladies and gentlemen, may I be the first to present to you Mr. and Mrs. Jason White."

The guests applauded and Marcus and Lance both whooped and whistled at us. Kate chuckled against my lips as I kissed her once more. 

"I love you," she murmured.

"Feeling's mutual."

It took far too long, in my opinion, to shake hands with everyone so that we could get into the limo that would take us to the reception. Once we were safely out of view of prying eyes, I took the liberty to kiss her deeply and fully. Though she made sure to warn me not to mess up the dress or her hair.

"Where's the fun in that?" I complained.

"You can mess up my hair all you want later on tonight," she teased.

"I'm going to hold you to that promise."

"I hope you do."

I laughed and kissed her again.

The reception went as well as any reception could. We ate expensive food that looked better than it tasted, cut the oversized cake and fed each other, did the traditional wrap-your-arms-around-each-other-and-try-to-drink-champagne toast, and tossed the bouquet and garter. Kate had wanted to do everything like she'd always imagined it and I had no desire to keep her from the wedding of her dreams. But I had to put my own touch on it. After all, it was my wedding, too, and I had a surprise for my new wife.

"Come on," she tugged on my arm. "It's time for our first dance."

"Not yet," I smiled. "I have something for you."

She looked puzzled when I kissed her hand and walked up to the microphone. "What are you up to?"

We had compromised on the music. I wanted live music and Kate wanted a DJ. I thought having a DJ was the easy way out and she thought I was being a music snob. So we ended up having both. I hired some musicians that I had known in school to play for the reception while everyone ate. Kate hired a DJ to play secular music when it came time to dance. In reality, I didn't care if we had live music or not. I just needed an excuse to have a piano in the reception hall without Kate suspecting that I was up to something.

Taking the mic from the musicians, I asked for everyone's attention and the room quieted down. "I was informed a few months back that I would be expected to present my beautiful new wife with a gift today. Knowing that Kate has done everything to make sure today is perfect, I didn't want to spoil it by failing to have something really memorable to offer her. Being a musician and one who only recently finished school, I'm not a really wealthy man. I've recently been called a music snob—"

Kate laughed.

"— which isn't exactly true. I do know my way around popular music. Elton John in particular is a favorite of mine, and not just because he plays piano. In thinking of what I wanted to say today, a certain lyric of his came to mind. So Kate…" I looked directly at her. "My gift is my song, and this one's for you."

I sat at the keyboard and started playing the simple piece I had once played for Kate. I heard her gasp in surprise, which made my heart swell. When I had played it for her a few years ago, it had been very basic and rather short, but I had spent years developing it and building it into a piece of music worth being dedicated to someone as special as Kate. When I finished, she hurried to my side and kissed me thoroughly. There were tears in her eyes.

"I hope those are happy tears," I said softly.

She nodded and hugged me close to her. Not wanting to lose the moment, the DJ announced that we would then share our first dance. I wasn't a very good dancer, but with Kate in my arms looking the way she did, I was certain no one would notice me. We swayed back and forth to the music, kissing every now and then, completely lost in each other.

Other dances followed. Kate danced with her father and I danced with my mother. Then the wedding party danced and soon enough the floor was open to whomever cared to participate. It was going well and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. Most importantly for me, Kate was happy with the way things turned out.

A few hours into the party, while I took the chance to get in another dance with Kate, I looked across the floor to see Clark leading my mother to the dance floor. My feet stilled and my body froze completely at the sight of them together. It wasn't every day that I saw my parents – my biological parents – in each other's arms. Yet every time I did see it, I felt slightly dazed by it.

Following my line of sight, Kate gasped when she saw what I was looking at. Mom seemed a bit uncomfortable, and rightly so in my opinion, for Clark was looking at her in a most intimate way. It was a look I'd seen him give my mother many times, but he was usually dressed as Superman when it would happen.

"Did he tell her?" Kate asked quietly.

"I don't think so."

"Do you think he's going to tell her now?"

"I hope not," I said honestly. "Mom will probably make a scene if he does."

Kate gave me a little tug and we started dancing again. "Let's just enjoy the evening. I don't think he would tell her now and risk spoiling things."

She was right, but it still didn't make me feel any more at ease about it. I didn't have a long time to dwell on it though, for the reception was drawing to a close. Kate and I made our exit through a crowed of family and friends surrounded by bubbles. I had expected the traditional rice-throwing, but apparently that was forbidden these days. Kate hugged her parents one last time, and I hugged mine.

Mom held me tight and whispered very softly for only me to hear, "I'm sorry your father wasn't here."

I smiled brightly at her. "Don't worry. We talked before the wedding and I know for a fact that he saw everything."

She looked started for a moment, but then smiled and kissed my cheek. "I love you."

"I love you too, Mom."

"And you," she said, turning to Kate. "Take care of him. Don't let him boss you around."

Kate laughed. "He won't, if he knows what's good for him."

I opened the door to the limo and let Kate climb in. Her father clapped me on the back and said, "That's my little girl, you know."

I nodded solemnly. "I'll take care of her, sir."

"Just make sure she's happy."

"I'll be happy if we could get some privacy!" Kate teased from her place in the vehicle.

An awkward handshake followed by the last round of traditional well wishes and we were finally blissfully alone behind the closed doors of the automobile. We stared at each other for a long time before the kissing started. What happened after that…well, I didn't much care so long as she was with me and we would be left alone.


	28. Age 22 part two: Divided

_AN: I get asked a lot if I will write a chapter where Jason saves Superman. Well, this is that chapter. If you haven't read "Going Under" I suggest you do so or this chapter might not be so clear. You can find it here at under my published fics. It's the big "reveal" fic for my AU and will help you better understand the emotion of this chapter. _

_Many thanks to htbthomas, Hellish Red Devil, and Van-El for their help with this chapter. I do have one of the best beta teams, IMO. You guys all rock! _

**Age 22 part two: Divided**

I was asleep when the phone rang. It was such a deep, peaceful sleep that I didn't even hear the phone at first, and considering how sensitive my ears are, that's saying something. It was the sleep of the dead and something I'd been gratefully experiencing ever since the wedding. The relief of having the pressure of the event taken off my shoulders – the anticipation of finally being legally married to this amazing woman – it all was released and my body was able to rest – _really_ rest – for the first time in months.

It was actually Kate's elbow that woke me up. She was curled up in my arms with her back against my chest and had easy access to my rib cage. It didn't hurt, but I felt it, so she must have put some good force behind the jab. I reluctantly released my hold on her and rolled onto my back so I could reach for the phone.

Still half asleep, I said, "Hello?"

"Hi, Jason. It's Mom."

"Mom?" I said, still in a sleepy daze. "What's wrong?" I glanced at the clock, which told me it was just after five in the morning.

She laughed. "What's wrong? _Clark_ is what's wrong."

I blinked, coming awake pretty fast at the way she snarled the name Clark. "So then… you know?"

She sighed. "Oh yeah, I know. I know everything."

I closed my eyes and sat up. "When did he tell you?"

"Yesterday. Last night."

"Last night," I repeated, looking over at Kate, who was anxiously staring up at me, biting at her bottom lip in concern.

"Exactly how long have you known, Jason?" Mom asked.

This was going to be an ugly conversation, I could tell that already. "Do you want me to come over there, Mom, so we can talk about this?"

She exhaled deeply. "I'm not sure what I want right now. It's as if my whole world has turned upside down and inside out. I'm not sure what to do next."

"I know exactly how you feel, Mom," I said in all honesty.

"No, you don't," she snapped. "You have no idea how I feel."

That made me angry. "Yes, I do know, and instead of fighting with you over the phone I'm going to come over there. Okay?"

"Fine. Do what you want."

The line went dead. I looked back over at Kate, who was making a rather unpleasant face. "She's pissed off, huh?"

"I think that is the understatement of the century." I swept my feet over the edge of the bed, stood up, and pulled on some clothes. "She's so mad she doesn't even know what to be mad about. She didn't even really yell at me."

"She's trying to keep it in check," Kate surmised. "Do you want me to come with you?"

"No," I said slipping on my shoes. "Thanks, but this is something Mom and I will have to work out on our own." Leaning over the bed, I kissed her lips. "I'll be back… sometime today."

She nodded and sank back under the covers. I would much rather have been there beside her in the bed than facing what could possibly be the nastiest conversation I would ever have with my mother, but it was a conversation that I'd been expecting for years now. There were things that I could say to her now that I could never say to her before, and vice versa. I only hoped that she would be as understanding about my reasoning as she had expected me to be all those years ago when I first found out the truth about my father.

On my way over, I called Clark's apartment and got no answer. I considered heading over there, but opted to leave a message instead.

When I got to the house, she was in the kitchen making coffee. "I didn't get a lot of sleep last night," she explained when I took a sip and realized how strong she had made it. "I don't have the advantage of sunlight to help jumpstart my body, you know."

I frowned at her. "That's a low blow."

"So is lying to your mother for nearly all your life."

If that was how she was going to play it, I had plenty of ammunition. "How about lying to your son for his whole life?"

"It's not the same thing."

"It's exactly the same thing."

"I had plans to tell you! I was going to tell you. It was just a matter of time." She popped a hip. "You were never going to tell me this, were you?"

"Actually, Mom, the reason he told you was because I asked him to. If he hadn't come clean in the next month or so, I was going to tell you myself."

She chuckled darkly. "Yeah, right."

"But let's think about this. If I had told you all those years ago that Clark was really Superman, would you have believed me?"

"Just when exactly did you know?" she asked, dodging my question.

"Since I was five – right after he came back."

She huffed. "That's what he said. I was hoping he was lying."

"Why?"

"Because I was having a hard time believing that you had kept this from me. I've always known that he keeps secrets, but you… knowing that you kept this from me really hurts."

"You kept secrets too, Mom. Don't you think it hurt me when I found out Richard wasn't really my father?"

Anger flashed in her eyes. "This is totally different."

"No. It's no different."

"It's completely different, Jason!" she yelled. "It's worse than anything I could imagine." "You think you had it worse than me?" I asked.

"Yes."

"You think his lying to you was worse than his lying to me?"

"Yes."

I rolled my eyes. "That's crap, Mom. He's my _father_!"

"Yes, and I _loved_ him!" The admission burst out of her at full volume. She held my gaze through the silence that followed, as if daring me to contradict her.

"He lied to us both," I said softly. "It's not going to do us much good to argue about who was hurt more by his actions."

She shook her head. "But you lied for him."

"So did you," I countered. "We could go around in circles all day if you want… or we could skip it and get to what's really important."

"And that would be?"

"That there are no more secrets. That now we can talk about things fully and openly."

She tutted and shook her head. "Kate and her annoying psychobabble has rubbed off on you."

"Kate's my wife now, Mom. Don't talk about her like that," I warned.

Mom looked at me apologetically. "You're right. Talk about psychobabble; I've just found out that my own love life has been a complete sham, so I feel the need to take it out on someone who's currently very happy with theirs."

That didn't sit well with me. "A sham?"

"A lie," she sighed, dropping into her favorite chair. "When I think of the number of times I thought I was being sly about slipping off for some kind of romantic liaison on the roof… and he was sitting at the desk right next to me the whole time… he must have had a good laugh every time."

"I don't know about that, Mom," I said, sitting across from her on the couch. "I think that he really believes that he was doing the right thing at the time." When she didn't respond after a few seconds, I continued. "And from what I understand, you can't really call it a sham because you two truly did… love each other… once."

Her eyes flicked up to meet mine as soon as the last word left my mouth. The intensity of her gaze sent a chill down my spine. Was she going to correct me for adding "once" to the end of the sentence? I didn't have the courage to ask her if she was still in love with him.

She pulled her eyes away from mine. "That time I grounded you for being rude to Clark…"

I blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in conversation. "What about it?"

"That was about your father… not my colleague, right?"

"Right," I confirmed.

"I should have seen it."

The conversation went on for most of the morning as she picked through moments and filled in the missing pieces. I told her whatever she wanted to know, but there were some things I couldn't tell her. Like when she asked me anything really personal about Clark and how he was able to shift from one identity to the next. I told her what I had seen, but I couldn't go into much detail because I was still finding out that sort of information for myself. We decided that there was so much to this man who played an integral part in both of our lives that we just didn't know. It wasn't an easy conversation by any means, but somehow we got through it.

Before I left she explained that she had told him to stay out of her way. "I don't really have anything more to say to him right now."

"That's going to be hard," I said, "considering that you work with him."

She downed her third cup of coffee. "So long as he stays on his side of the bullpen and I stay on mine, we should be fine."

Mom got more than what she wished for though. Not only did Clark stay away from her, he stayed away from everyone. I left message after message on his phone for him, but it wasn't until news reports started coming in about Superman's failure to show up to help with various disasters that he usually helped with that I really started to worry. A fire sweeping through Arizona threatened several cities and took a few lives. A drunk driver had almost crashed into a bus filled with schoolchildren, causing the bus to topple over and trap a few of the kids inside for hours. A bombing in an airport in Japan had planes grounded and lead to heightened security and international tension. And included in every story were the words, "Where is Superman?"

It was mom's call on Thursday from work that made me take action. "It's been six days now and nobody's seen him," she explained.

"He's been to work, hasn't he?"

"Nope."

I chilled. "Wait a sec – he hasn't even been in to the _Planet_?"

"Nope. He hasn't even called Perry to tell him he was taking time off. Jerk."

I ignored her jibe. "Mom, are you telling me that no one has seen Clark or Superman in over six days?"

"Well, that's why I was calling you. I wanted to know if you had talked to him." She was trying to sound very casual about it, but I could hear the worry behind her question.

"No, Mom. I haven't talked to him since the wedding."

"Oh," was her only reply.

"You don't think…" I couldn't finish the sentence, let alone the thought. The possibility that he might have left again made me tremble for reasons I didn't fully comprehend.

"I'm trying not to think about it," Mom said. "That's why I called you."

"You're not fooling anyone, Mom," I observed. "You want to know where he is just as much as I do."

She huffed. "Then go find him." Ah, Lois.

I hung up the phone and hoping that he would answer, immediately dialed Clark's number. As expected, I had no such luck.. With an unfamiliar sinking feeling in my stomach, I darted out the door of my apartment and headed to the other side of town where Clark lived. It was midmorning and, as usual, traffic was awful, so I ran the whole way, letting my feet carry me much faster than I should have allowed. I didn't care. I just needed to find him and find him now.

The security guard stationed at the desk in the lobby of his apartment building stood up the moment I entered. "Mr. White," he said, his face looking rather grim.

"Hi Frank. I need to see Mr. Kent."

"He isn't here."

I frowned. "How can you be sure?"

"He hasn't come through here in about a week. I've been starting to wonder where he went."

That didn't bode well. "You haven't seen him all week then?"

"No, sir. Last I saw him was when he left for work last Friday morning."

I swore under my breath. "Then he isn't here."

"Unless he can come and go without using the front door of the building."

I looked up at the older man in alarm. Clark _could_ get into his apartment through the window… but how did the guard know about that? "Would you mind if I checked… just in case?" I asked.

He smiled softly. "Not a problem, Mr. White. I'll take you up there myself."

Frank led the way to the door at the end of the third floor and used his master key to open the lock, but I didn't need to have the door opened to know that Clark wasn't inside. I couldn't hear him. More than that, one glimpse with X-ray vision told me the place was empty.

"Sorry about this, Mr. White." Frank apologized.

"It's not your fault. I just wonder where he could be." My fear that he had left the planet again made my stomach twist into a knot.

"Maybe he went home," Frank offered.

"That's what I'm afraid of," I mumbled. Home… to Krypton…or what was left of it.

"Kansas is a nice place."

My head jerked up in surprise. "What did you say?"

"Kansas – where Mr. Kent is from. It's a nice place. Quiet. Out of the way."

"Frank," I said, smiling for the first time since my mother called me, "you're brilliant."

After a call to Kate to let her know what the plan was and a quick stop back at my apartment to pick up some clothes, I was on my way to the airport for the next flight to Kansas. It was a good thing my full time job with the orchestra hadn't started yet, for I didn't know how long this would take. I landed in Topeka and rented a car, making it to Smallville in a total of about six hours. The sun was setting when I arrived. It had been a long time since I'd been to Smallville, and I'd never actually gone into town. From my twelve-year-old memory, I tried to pull out any and all details that would help me find the Kent farm when I spotted the silo. We had raced from that point to the house. It had to be nearby.

I turned down the next dirt road and saw the old farmhouse in the distance. It looked deserted with no cars around the property or lights on in the house. Then I reminded myself that Clark didn't need a car, or lights for that matter. He had to be in there. I didn't want to consider the options of where he might be if he wasn't .

As I approached the house, memories flooded my mind – good memories of running through corn and of him fixing breakfast for me and singing so badly it hurt my ears. The front door, which was surprisingly unlocked, squeaked when I opened it. I stepped hesitantly into the old house.

It was dark – very dark – almost too dark. I noticed that every window was covered, every blind pulled shut. The old storm shutters that covered some of the windows were locked into place. The only light in the house was coming through the cracks around the doors and windows. It was also cool inside the house, much colder than it should have been for a summer evening, and I wondered how long the house had been shut up like this.

A week maybe?

Wanting some light, I opened some of the blinds so I could better find my way around the seemingly empty house. There was no sign of anyone living in the place. No food had been left out on the kitchen counter. No blankets thrown over the arm of the couch from where someone might have been lying to watch TV. And no sounds. It was dead silent. I pushed my hearing deeper into the quiet until I heard something.

Breathing. Very slow and shallow. And a faint heartbeat.

"Clark?" I called out into the quiet.

I listened again until I could pinpoint where the sound was coming from. At the back of the house, just off the dining room, there was a small den with no windows. It was just large enough for an old couch that had seen better days and a battered coffee table. The shelves were lined with books and pieces of model airplanes, random bits from a child's train set, and a well-worn football next to a baseball and glove. Lying facedown on the sofa, with one arm and leg falling over onto the floor, was Clark.

"Clark!" I gasped, rushing to him. "Clark, are you okay?"

Slowly, as if he were incapable of movement, Clark turned his head to look at me. "Jason?"

His face was pale and there were dark shadows around his eyes. The normally vibrant sapphire color had dulled into a plain and simple blue. His skin looked sallow and his whole frame appeared to be weakened and smaller – as if his bones had somehow shrunk a little, impossible as that seemed. But the most surprising feature was the beard stubble covering his chin. Given that my own hair didn't grow as fast as that of a normal human's thanks to the effect of the sun, I could go several days without needing to shave. I knew that for him the effect would be even stronger. For him to have any amount of a beard meant that he'd been without sunlight for a while.

"Oh God," I said, taking in the sight of him. "We have to get you into the sunlight."

"No," he groaned, burying his head back into the crook of his arm. "No light."

I ignored him and went to work opening up as many windows as I could. "How long have you been in here, anyway?"

"I don't know," he mumbled in a voice that sounded hoarse from lack of use. "Just leave me alone."

"Like hell I will," I said defiantly, coming back into the small room and trying to force him to turn over. "When was the last time you ate something?"

"I don't know. Jason, please, just leave me alone."

"No way. I know that trick. I am a master of it."

His eyes opened to look up at me questioningly. "What trick?"

"The whole 'I want to be alone' thing. People only say that as a test to see if the other person actually cares enough to stay with them. Well, I care, and I'm not leaving you alone."

He started at me in wonder. "You… care?"

"Yes," I grumbled. "Why do you think I'm here? I've been worried sick, afraid that you had left the planet again. Have you any idea the number of accidents that have been going on lately with no sign of Superman?"

He sighed and rolled back onto his stomach. "Stop."

"There were people killed in those fires in Arizona a few days ago."

"_Stop_," he repeated.

"Or that bomb in Japan. Everyone was terrified for hours."

"Just stop!"

"And those kids on that bus. It isn't like you to let little kids suffer like that."

Suddenly, he sat up and pounded his fist though the coffee table. "_Will you shut up_?" His voice rang loudly through the house, shaking me to the very core. "I have given everything – _everything_ – to this planet!" He took a few shallow breaths. "I have a life, damn it! I am just a man…trying to live my life. It is not my fault that some idiot took a bomb into an airport in Japan. Nor is it my fault that another idiot drives drunk. I have my own problems!" he stressed. "Right now I'm having enough trouble dealing with my own problems, so forgive me if I'm not rushing off to fix someone else's mistakes."

I stood still, afraid to move or speak. I'd never seen him like this – never heard him speak so darkly about humanity or his own involvement with the tragedies that took place every day. I wasn't sure what to do or say to calm him down, nor was I certain of just how violent he would--or _could_--get. He was always a very gentle person. I'd never seen the full force of his anger, and right now it scared me to think of the potential damage that could be done because of it.

However, to my relief, the anger I felt emanating from him dissipated as he sank back down onto the couch. "Why did you come here, Jason?" he said in that same raspy, unfamiliar voice.

I swallowed. "I told you – I was worried that you had left. When Mom said that you hadn't been into work—"

"You talked to Lois?" he interrupted, coming up on his elbow and looking at me with hope in his pained eyes.

"Yeah," I replied. "She told me what happened."

He dropped back down and buried his face once more, hiding his eyes from me. But he couldn't hide the sound of his tears. "She told me to go away," he said softly.

"I know."

With his face still hidden, he said, "I have now had the privilege of being told by the two people I love more than anything – the two people I would do anything for – to go away. That I've hurt them. That they don't want to see me ever again."

Another chill washed over me because I knew he wasn't just talking about Mom. I knew who that second person was, and for the first time I felt true pain at having said those things to him.

A sob escaped his throat, followed by another he couldn't choke down. In a very broken and weak voice, he mumbled, "I love her. I love her. I love—" his voice cracked under his sob, "— love her. I love her, Jason. Oh God, I _ache_ for her, I love her so much!"

My heart raced in my chest. I'd always known that he loved my mother, but hearing him voice it in such a way left me speechless. It was naive of me, but I'd always assumed that his love for her had softened over the years that she was married to Dad – that somehow he had been able to love her platonically as a friend who he had once been romantically involved with. But I was mistaken – gravely mistaken.

"I hurt her… and I hate myself for it," he moaned. "I've lost her. I've lost her forever. It hurts so much. I feel like I have a hole where my heart should be. I would rather be smothered in kryptonite than feel this, it hurts so much!"

I grimaced at the image and tried to think of something – anything to snap him out of this. However, it was what he said next that chilled me to the core.

"Maybe I should leave," he said.

My heart skipped a beat.

"She wants me to go, maybe I should go. I should do what she wants me to do for once and just go."

Anger and fear boiled inside of me.

"It would be better if I weren't here – if she didn't have to see me. That way I'd never hurt her again."

I scowled in frustration as the rage in my chest built.

"I should go… just leave… just go."

"Stop it!" I snapped.

He sniffed and looked up at me.

"You just shut up about that right now!" I ordered. "I don't _ever_ want to hear you talking about leaving again. _Ever_! My God!" I gasped and threw my hands up in the air in disbelief. "Didn't you learn anything from the first time you left? Or weren't the consequences of that mistake bad enough for you? You think you need to go and make it worse?" He blinked at me in surprise.

"Now, I know that I'm not Mom," I pressed. "I know that you don't love me as much as you love her, but _damn it_ – you're my _father_!" The well inside of me broke. "You're my father, and you are not going to leave again, do you hear me? I have not worked this hard – I've not tried to resolve these issues with you for you to just pack up and leave me again. If I have to go and get a shit load of kryptonite to keep you here, then so help me, I will."

His mouth hung open. I took advantage of his speechlessness and continued. "And for the record, you didn't lose Mom. You can't lose something that you don't have. It might hurt you to hear it, but you need to realize that she is married to another man. She hasn't been 'yours' for a very long time. So let it go already! She is not the only person on this planet that needs you or wants you here, or haven't you noticed that I've come all the way out here to find you because I was worried about you?"

He was sitting all the way up now, still gaping at me.

"Now get the hell off of that couch," I demanded, "drag your ass outside and get some damn sunlight before the sun sets! I'm not going to let you do this to yourself, okay?"

"All right, Jason," he nodded.

"I'm going to go find you something to eat, and when I'm done you had better still be here. 'Cause if you leave, don't even think about ever coming back."

He shook his head.

"Are we clear?"

"We're clear."

I didn't look back at him as I walked to the kitchen. Nor did I glance at him when I heard him go outside. I searched around the kitchen for any semblance of something to eat. He'd obviously not been here in a while for there wasn't anything perishable in the pantry; I was forced to settle on heating up a can of tomato soup and some put crackers with peanut butter on the side. Not the best meal in the world, but it was food nonetheless.

His feet padded softly across the floor just as I started pouring the soup into a bowl. I quickly glanced up at him to find him hovering in the doorway. "You didn't have much to eat in the pantry, so I hope you like soup."

"It's fine," he said gently. "It looks wonderful."

He sat down and slowly started in on the soup. I sat across from him, feeling like a guard keeping watch over a prisoner until he finished his meal. Hoping to ease the tension between us, I dipped a cracker into the peanut butter and slid it into my mouth.

After a few long seconds, he finally said, "Thank you, Jason."

"Don't mention it," I said, trying to sound indifferent to the situation.

"No, Jason. This," he signaled to the simple dinner in front of him, "really means a lot to me. Your being here means a lot to me."

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. "You're welcome."

He stirred his soup but didn't eat it. "I didn't mean it," he said quietly, keeping his eyes downcast. "I would never leave you, Jason. I shouldn't have even said it. It was stupid. I'm sorry." He took a deep breath. "And you're wrong about something. I don't love your mother more than I love you. I just love her… differently."

"I hope so," I smirked, "because that would be weird."

A small smile formed on his lips before he ran his hands through his hair and rested his elbows on the table with his head in his hands. "I've been going over it again and again in my head. I really thought I was doing the right thing for her."

"You know," I leaned forward, "I know what it is to have the woman you love angry at you. So I can sympathize with you. But I think the difference here – and I don't want to upset you with this – but for me, I knew from watching you that I had to tell Kate the truth as soon as I could."

"I told Lois the truth," he stated quickly. "I told her everything. She figured it out and I decided that once she knew, she should know everything. So I told her everything."

"And then you made her forget everything."

"It wasn't as if that decision was made lightly, Jason," he retorted, sounding more like himself. "And I certainly didn't take any pleasure in it. I didn't want her to forget me, forget what had happened between us, but I didn't think I had much of a choice."

I pursed my lips, silently disagreeing with him.

"You don't understand," he mumbled, stirring the soup.

"Then explain it to me."

His eyes met mine and I did not look away.

"I gave up everything for her, Jason."

I was caught off guard by the comment. "What do you mean?"

"I gave up my powers for her. I stepped into a chamber and allowed myself to be exposed to rays that harnessed the power of Krypton's sun so I could be just like any other mortal man… so I could be with her."

I was too stunned to speak. I'd never known about that, but couldn't find any way to ask about it. Before I could find my voice he was continuing on.

"For about twenty-four hours everything was perfect. I was just a man in love with a woman. But what I didn't know was that Zod had broken free from the Phantom Zone and was wreaking havoc on the world. So I had to go back. I had to give her up. The choice was a mortal life with Lois under Zod's control or a life in the free world as Superman… without Lois." Tears swelled in his eyes. "Forgive me, but I didn't think it would be much of a life for her if I let Zod take control. So I gave her up. And when it was all said and done… she was a mess."

He shook his head and covered his mouth with his hand. "She wasn't Lois. More than that, she told me that she couldn't live like that. She said that she could keep my secret, that wasn't the problem. I trusted her not to tell anyone. She said that the problem was that she couldn't go on seeing me day after day, knowing that I loved her and what we had together and not… love me back." He covered his eyes with his hands now, fighting back the obvious tears. "She said she didn't want to share me…"

He rubbed his eyes and rested his head in his hands again. "I thought that if she couldn't remember what had happened…" He sniffed. "That if she didn't know how close we had come to having what we both wanted…" He shook his head. "I really thought it was the right thing to do, because the minute it was done, she was right back to her normal self. She was focused and she was full of life… and she didn't even see me." He chuckled. "She sent me out for freshly squeezed orange juice."

There was a long pause before I asked, "Why didn't you tell her later, after you came back?"

He exhaled a long, slow breath. "Honestly… because of you." He looked at me with a soft smile. "You were an unexpected twist to the whole situation. A welcome twist, and one that I don't regret by any means, but a twist all the same. You knew one part of the secret and Lois knew another part. We had to tell you the truth… we had to tell Richard… it was like fitting pieces of a puzzle together at just the right time. But we waited too long, and you ended up hating me for it. By that point, I couldn't find it in me to tell Lois the truth. Like I told you when you first asked me to come clean about this with Lois – as much as I wanted to, I was too afraid that I would end up having you both angry at me. I couldn't risk that. Having one of you hate me is bad enough. I don't know if I'd be able to survive having both of you hate me."

"I never hated you, Dad," I offered.

He looked up at me in surprise. "Yes, you did."

"No, not really." Feeling guilty, I looked down at my hands on the table. "I didn't think you wanted me and I was always so afraid that you'd leave me because I wasn't good enough."

"Jason—"

"So I thought that if I pushed you away – if I had control over the situation – that it wouldn't hurt as much when you really did leave me."

"I'm not going to leave," he promised. Driving his point home, he reached across the table and placed his hand over mine. "I swear to you, Jason, I am not going to leave you."

I squeezed his hand and smiled. "And just so you know, Mom doesn't hate you, either."

What energy he had in him seemed to evaporate. "Yes, she does," he insisted, pulling his hand away from mine.

"She's angry at you, but she doesn't hate you. If she hated you, she wouldn't have called me and told me to come looking for you."

He considered it for a second. "I suppose." But he was not convinced.

"Since we're being so candid about everything right now, can you answer another question for me?" I asked.

"Sure."

"You said you became mortal, right?"

"Yes."

I shifted back in my chair, afraid of the question that I needed to ask. "Was that before or after you and mom… were… _together_."

Understanding lit his face. "Before."

That hadn't been the answer I was expecting. "So you were mortal when I was…"

"Conceived?" Clark finished for me. "Yes."

"Okay, so then why am I not human?"

"Mortal, Jason. I was mortal, not human. I was still me. My body didn't change. My blood didn't change. All that changed was the way my blood and body responded to the sun."

"Right, so why does_ my_ blood respond to the sun when _yours _didn't?"

"Because my DNA was still Kryptonian, and you have my DNA."

I thought for a moment. "Does this chamber still exist? The one that can make you mortal?"

"No, I destroyed it."

I frowned. "Damn. Here I thought that maybe there was a chance to be normal after all, because that's all I've ever wanted, really."

"No, you don't, Jason."

"Yes, I do," I insisted.

"No. Just think about it." He sat forward. "Think of how different your piano would sound to normal, mortal ears. Think how difficult it would be for you to find the precise sound you are looking for in a piece of music. Or the loss of the dexterity in your fingers and the speed of your hands over the keyboard. Do you really want to give that up?" When I didn't answer he said, "Is it really so bad being my son that you'd want to give up such a unique and precious talent?"

"No," I said firmly. "That isn't what this is about. This isn't about you. It's about wanting to be normal."

"Exactly. You don't want to be partially Kryptonian. Every time you say that you want to be normal, what I hear is that you don't want to be my son."

I'd never thought of it like that – never thought of it from his point of view. Instantly, I felt badly for it.

Clark pushed away from the table and stood up. "I need some air."

I watched him walk out onto the porch and lean against the railing. My insides squirmed and twisted over what I was feeling and what I had just said to him. I had come out here to help him and yet in the end all I did was make him feel worse. I couldn't just let it go like this. In the past, I would have triumphed over the fact that I'd hurt him, but not anymore.

I joined him out on the porch just as the sun was setting behind us. My heart was racing and I knew he could tell I was nervous about something, so I figured I should just say it and get it over with while the adrenaline was rushing through me.

"It isn't so bad being your son."

His head slowly turned so he could look at me, but he didn't speak.

"I like running fast. I like being strong. It's just a bummer that I can't go out and play baseball and really knock one out of the park and run the bases in no time flat. And you're right about the music, too. As much as I hate to admit this to you… the fact that I have ultra sensitive hearing has come in very handy over the years."

The corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly.

"But more than that…" I faltered. With my eyes trained on my feet, I kicked at a rock on the porch like some shy schoolboy afraid to own up to his feelings. That was partially true. I'd never been this honest with him, but I figured I owed it to him since he had been so honest with me. "If I had been Richard's son—" My nerves got the better of me again. I took a deep breath and forced myself to say it. "If I had been Richard's biological son, then I would be the product of a casual affair – like a one-night stand. But… I'm your son. You and Mom really loved each other."

I swallowed hard. "I know that probably sounds stupid."

"It doesn't sound stupid at all," he smiled warmly.

I smiled back at him.

He shifted and suddenly glanced around to look at the car parked by the barn. "Did you drive all the way out here?"

"No, I flew and rented a car from the airport. I went to your apartment first and when you weren't there I figured this was the only other place you might be."

"You went through all that for me?"

I shrugged. "I didn't want you to leave again."

He placed a hand on my shoulder. "I'm not going to leave again. I promise you that. But things are going to be very different now. Lois…"

"I know," I nodded. "But I think she'll come around."

"I don't think so," he said remorsefully.

"Whoa – how's that for a switch. I'm the one thinking positively and you're the one being negative?"

He didn't laugh. "Not negative – just realistic." He arched his back and stretched a little. "I'm starving," he announced unexpectedly.

"Oh come on, you didn't like my soup?"

Now he chuckled. "I'm not sure how old that can of soup was, but it wasn't very tasty."

"Well, I didn't have a lot of options."

He combed his fingers through his hair. "So let's go get something to eat, then."

"Okay, what are you in the mood for?"

"I was thinking pasta sounded perfect."

"Got any good Italian places around here?"

"No," he sighed. "But Italy has good pasta."

My eyebrows shot up. "Italy?"

"They have the best pasta in Florence, actually."

"You want to go to Italy? Now?"

He looked at me as if I had missed the obvious. "Sure, why not?"

"Okay," I said skeptically.

I hated to admit to him for a second time that he was right, but I couldn't deny the fact. They did have the best pasta in Florence.


	29. Age 23: Life

_AN: I hope this chapter helps relieve some of the tension from the last chapter. I really tried to do this as realistically as possible, given that I have been through this sort of thing twice myself! Many thanks to htbthomas and Hellish for all their corrections and support. And to van-el for helping me tap into the male side of things for this. You three rock and my fan fiction would suck without you!_

**Age 23 - Life**

I've been told that the first year of marriage is the hardest. As much as I hoped that the old saying was a falsehood, unfortunately I found that it was very true. I hadn't thought that it would be, given that Kate and I had been together for two years before we were married. We even kind of lived together for a while, though it wasn't a legal arrangement. Her Dad would have killed her – and me - if we had officially moved in together. So, we each had our own apartment and our own roommates, but we each kept things like clothes and a toothbrush at each other's places. In all, I had pretty much spent two years of my life with Kate morning and night, so I figured that being married wouldn't be that much different. The one thing I didn't account for was the fact that we were no longer in school. We had entered the real world with real schedules and real jobs, and our two jobs didn't mesh well.

Kate had taken a position with a counseling service right out of school. She started part time until she could work up some clients and then went full time a few months later. She was good at her job, but she hoped to eventually have her own practice. She worked mostly daytime hours from eight in the morning until four in the evening, give or take an hour depending on the client's schedule.

I, on the other hand, worked a lot of evening hours. Such was the life of a musician. My performance at the contest earned me a position as an intern with the Metropolis Symphony Orchestra. I was responsible for helping catalogue music and making sure instruments were tuned, and I played for some rehearsals when their star pianist, Philip Bradford, was unable to attend. Basically, I was the low man on the totem pole, but that was all right with me. Although he was exceptionally talented, Bradford was conceited and I knew the Maestro was losing patience with him. It was only a matter of time before he would stick his foot in his mouth and be replaced. It was my hope that when that time came, I would be considered for some performances.

Yet, as it was, rehearsals were usually from noon until five on non-performance days. If there was a performance, we could be called in to rehearse for a few hours, depending on the piece, but generally we had to be in the building by seven for an eight o'clock curtain with the show ending around ten thirty and a reception following every opening and closing. That meant that for most of our first year, Kate and I played tag for dinner, meeting up in cheap restaurants or packing a dinner to take to the park. I wouldn't get home until midnight, and she would have to be up by six thirty. A lot of my weekends were shot for matinee performances too. For newlyweds, we really hardly ever saw each other.

Kate eventually ended up changing around some of her hours to start later in the day and opened up some slots in the evening for clients who worked full time and couldn't take time off to come in for an appointment. That allowed us to start actually seeing each other more often, and by the time we had our first anniversary, our schedules had fallen together rather well. It wasn't perfect, but it was better than what we'd had before while still allowing us to keep the careers that we wanted.

Then one day in July, out of the blue, the Maestro came to me and told me how he appreciated my hard work and thought it was time to put my talent to the test. The orchestra was going on tour in Europe for six weeks in the fall and he was in need of a second pianist to cover not only the rehearsals, but also a few performances. Bradford wasn't up to playing after some of the long train rides between locations and would be sitting out five of the twenty scheduled appearances. I was floored by the invitation and naturally accepted it with gratitude. Kate and I celebrated that evening by having a nice dinner and making love until we were too exhausted to move.

Being asked to go on tour meant that my own rehearsal time increased. I wasn't just a standby anymore. This was the real deal. I played over the pieces given me every chance I got. I'm sure Kate was sick of hearing the bouncy repetition of Mozart's Piano Concerto in E-flat. However, as a contrast and homage to music written in the same key, I was blessed with the opportunity to play one of my favorite pieces of music - Beethoven's Piano Concerto Number 5 in E-flat. I had once told her that I found it to be one of the sexiest pieces of music ever written. She agreed with me after she sat in on one of our rehearsals. The piece was simply gorgeous.

In early September, a little over a month before we were scheduled to leave for Europe, the orchestra opened a pop series featuring a guest vocalist well known for her work on Broadway. The reception that evening was going to be attended by some rather big names in the industry and I insisted that Kate come along with me knowing she would have a good time spotting the rich and famous.

We enjoyed ourselves, eating some exotic hors d'oeuvres and sipping champagne. The music was live and provided by a local jazz ensemble. Kate was stunning in her pale green cocktail gown that intensified the color of her eyes. Once or twice I noticed a few of the men sizing her up, but I would wrap my arms around her and hold her intimately so there was no question that she was my wife.

Wanting to make sure she had the best time possible, I escorted her onto the dance floor and tried my best to not step on her feet. I wasn't the best dancer, and we hadn't really danced since our wedding over a year ago, but I gave it my all. I whirled her around, letting her dress twirl out and then shape itself to her body. Spurred on by her bright smile and gentle laughter, I pulled her close and dipped her backwards. When she came up, she nearly collapsed onto the floor.

Instantly, I grabbed her and held her up. "Kate? Honey, what's wrong?"

Her head lobbed unsteadily for a moment and her eyes rolled back behind her lids. Her body was limp in my arms.

Panic stirred in my chest. "Kate? Kate!"

She found her footing and blinked up at me. "Whoa…" Her hands tightened on my arms as she tried to stand up straight. "I just… got a little woozy, I guess."

"Woozy? It seemed to me like you fainted."

"I'll be fine. Just give me a minute."

I didn't believe her. How could I with the way she was still clinging to me for support as her legs wobbled beneath her? "Wrong. You're not fine. I think the champagne has gone to your head." I wrapped my arms around her, securing her against my side and said, "Let's go home."

I led her through the crowd and outside where we waited for the valet to bring the car around. She was still unsteady, so I easily scooped her up and held her. She protested, insisting that she wasn't that bad, but I wouldn't hear it. Besides, it wasn't as if I was straining myself to hold her like this. However, when we arrived back at our apartment she wouldn't accept any help getting undressed and into bed.

"I told you, I'm fine," she repeated. "Do I look sick to you?"

She didn't – not anymore at least. But I could still feel the chill that had run through my body when she fainted, and I wasn't exactly ready to brush off the experience as just a random occurrence.

I called her three times the next day from work to check on her, which annoyed the living crap out of her. I knew this because she shouted it at me over the phone the last time I called. Yet, when I got home that evening, I found her sitting at the kitchen table drinking a cup of tea and looking oddly calm. She looked up at me, but didn't say anything.

"Hi," I said, tentatively. "What's going on?"

"Well, I've been thinking, and we need to talk."

The words "I've been thinking" are three of the most dreaded words a man can hear from a woman. The only thing worse than "I've been thinking" is the phrase "We need to talk." Kate had just dished out both of them in one fell swoop. Whatever she needed to say, it could not be good.

"I think you should sit down," she said.

"No, I'm okay. What's up?"

She took a deep breath. "I think I'm pregnant."

I was wrong. "I think I'm pregnant" was even more frightening than "We need to talk." My legs crumbled under me as I slid down onto a chair. "Um… what?" was about all I could manage.

"I think I'm pregnant," she repeated. "You once told me that if I ever thought I might be pregnant – even for a fraction of a second – that you wanted to know. So, I'm telling you."

I blinked and tried to shake off the haze that had started to form around my brain. "Oh… well… why… do you think you're um… you're um… pregnant." Saying it myself was probably the most frightening thing of all.

"Well, as you have pointed out several times to me today, I fainted last night."

"That could have been the champagne," I countered.

"And I've been having these odd food repulsions. Like popcorn." She stuck out her tongue. "The idea of eating popcorn right now makes me want to vomit."

"So then, I guess going to the movies is out of the question," I teased.

"And my boobs are so sensitive."

I smirked. "Your breasts have always been sensitive."

"Not like this. When we made love the other night I thought I was going to go insane when you touched me."

My smirk grew into a full-fledged grin. "That doesn't mean you're pregnant. It just means I did what I was supposed to do for you."

"And I'm late."

The bottom fell out of my stomach. Considering that we were talking about womanly issues, I didn't need an explanation of what she meant by "late." "How late?" I asked.

She pulled her shoulders up. "More than a week."

I didn't have any response to that.

"But I've been late before," she added when she took in my dazed expression.

"You have?"

"Yes, so it could be nothing."

"When will we know if it's nothing or if it's… something?"

She smiled. "I bought a home pregnancy test – a pack of them really."

Now we were getting somewhere. "Okay, so what did it say?"

"Well, it was positive, but that doesn't really mean anything."

Positive was positive any way you sliced it. "Why not?"

"Because you're supposed to take them in the morning."

"Why?"

"I don't know. That's what the instructions say though."

I was confused. "So, we have to wait until morning to find out?"

"I guess."

I didn't like that. I didn't like it at all. Our evening was spent looking at each other sideways and having random bits of awkward conversations that all seemed rather pointless when you're sitting next to your wife who may be pregnant. Forget even trying to sleep, because having her body against mine was only a reminder that there might be a third party with us. It was one of the longest and most drawn out nights I'd ever lived through.

It wasn't that I was unhappy or angry. Far from it, actually. After the few times we'd spent around Kate's younger siblings, I'd come to enjoy the kids and started to really look forward to having a family of my own. But the reality of it was that any child of mine would be partially alien, and that meant putting Kate at risk to carry and deliver such a baby. I wasn't angry at all. Rather, I was terrified.

I awoke in the morning when I felt Kate slip out from under the covers. I waited anxiously as she headed into the bathroom and closed the door. A few very tense minutes later, she emerged holding a white stick in her hands. She bit her lips and held it out for me to see the bright blue plus sign.

"It's positive," she said softly.

"Meaning…" my heart nearly leapt out of my chest "… you're pregnant."

"No, not necessarily," she said to my surprise. "These tests aren't 100 accurate. It is just a home pregnancy test, not a real blood test or anything."

I sat up fully, "So, make an appointment with the doctor for a blood test."

"No, not yet. The pack came with four tests. Why don't I take all four tests and make sure that they all have the same result before I get my hopes up and head off to the doctor to get stuck with some awful needles."

I blinked in confusion. "You want to wait to find out if this is the real thing or not?"

"I want to wait," she nodded. "So don't say anything to anyone, okay?" She smiled brightly, kissed me quickly, and headed to the closet. "I have to get going into work early. I have a family coming in first thing, so I don't have much time to waste."

I watched her flit around the room as she got dressed, completely dumbfounded by her behavior and uncertain of how I should respond to it. I figured it was best to let her have it her way, since she was the one who was pregnant, and just do what she asked.

The next two mornings had similar routines, so much so that after the fourth test came back positive and Kate again insisted that it didn't mean anything, I took hold of her hands and pulled her back down onto the bed. She resisted, but let's face it, I was too strong for her to escape.

"Kate, listen to me," I said softly and with determination. "You're pregnant."

"Jason," she sighed, "it's too soon to say anything."

"Kate—"

"No, listen to me," she stood up. "I have known too many women who got their hopes up and then went to the doctor and found out that it wasn't going to happen. So I'm not going to celebrate until I know for certain. I'll make an appointment with a doctor and we'll go from there. Okay?"

She headed back into the bathroom and hopped into the shower. I, on the other hand, flopped back onto the bed, uncertain of my wife's current mental stability. But what could I say to her? I didn't have much experience around pregnant women. Maybe this kind of crazy behavior was normal. I resigned myself to just waiting it out to see where she went from here.

Thankfully, I didn't have long to wait. Kate went to the doctor the next day and had her blood work done. She somehow avoided all conversation about babies for the next twenty-four hours and, as I had promised myself, I followed her lead. No mention of even the possibility of her being pregnant was made. Still, when she curled up against me at night, I felt an unknown pull to keep my hand resting protectively over her abdomen.

At rehearsal the next day, a real sense of dread settled into my gut. Kate was pregnant, whether she allowed us to acknowledge it or not. She was pregnant, and I, as her husband, needed to be with her. As I practiced each piece assigned to me, I grew more and more disappointed. It was painfully obvious to me that I wouldn't be going on the tour next month. There was simply no way I was going to leave my wife while she was pregnant.

Thus determined, I came home late from rehearsal to find her sitting curled up on the sofa with a cup of tea. Hesitantly, I approached her and kissed her cheek. I'd been walking on eggshells since her announcement a week ago, and I didn't know how much longer I would—or could-- last.

"The doctor called," she said softly. "The results came back from my blood test."

Given the expression on her face, it couldn't have been good news. "Oh, Kate," I said, slumping down to comfort her, even though part of me was relieved that I wouldn't have to pull out of the tour.

"I'm pregnant," she said. Immediately her face lit up into a huge grin.

My breath hitched. "Really?'

"Really!" she laughed, and burst into a series of excited squeals and giggles that were so out of character for her. She flung her arms around me and squeezed me as tight as she could, repeating into my ear a very delighted, "Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh!"

With a deep sigh, she pulled away from me… only to come right back in for a long, slow kiss. Her forehead rested against mine as I felt her body calm and relax into the moment.

"I told you so," I whispered.

She nodded.

In that moment, I knew I wouldn't be going to Europe. How could I? But I didn't tell Kate about my decision. Not yet. "Are you all right?" I asked instead, genuinely concerned over how she had been feeling for the last several days. Not being able to ask her about it had taken a bit of a toll on me.

"I've been a little queasy, and my boobs hurt, but other than that," she smiled brightly, "I feel great!" She hugged me again, laughing and displaying how totally ecstatic she was. All that emotion dropped though when she leaned back to look at my face. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," I tried to cover.

"Something's wrong. You aren't smiling."

"I'm smiling," I said, offering her the best smile I could manage.

She frowned at me, staring at me as if she was trying to read my mind. "You're not happy about this, are you?"

"I didn't say that," I stated quickly.

"You don't want children?"

"I didn't say that," I punctuated.

"You don't have to say it. I can see it in your eyes."

"Kate, I want children," I insisted.

She prompted me with a very serious, "But…?"

"But," I wet my lips, "the idea of it kind of… freaks me out a little."

"Why?"

"Because—" I looked at her beautiful face – the slight blush on her cheeks, the shine in her emerald eyes. "Because I don't want to lose you. Either of you," I added, my eyes darting down to her stomach. "When I was born—"

"You were sick," she interrupted. "I know, Jason. You've warned me about this. Your mother has even told me about it."

I was momentarily taken aback. "You talked to mom about this? She knows?"

"No, she doesn't know, but we have talked about the possibility of me getting pregnant someday. She told me all about the complications she had with her pregnancy and the difficulties you had when you were little. I don't know if she was trying to talk me out of pursuing having a baby or what, but I did learn a lot from her."

"Like what?"

"Like the fact that she blames herself for you asthma."

Now I was really surprised. "Why?"

"Because she smoked all the way through her first trimester. She didn't do it on purpose, really, but she didn't know she was pregnant."

I thought about it for a moment, stunned that I'd never considered that as an option for my asthma. I'd always blamed my poor mixture of Kryptonian and human DNA with every illness I'd ever had.

Kate went on with her explanation. "More than that, I have my own ideas about what caused you to be really sick growing up."

"And that would be…?"

"Medicine," she said simply.

"You mean the fact that nothing ever worked?"

"Meaning that you are partially Kryptonian and you were taking medication meant to cure a human. I think the more medicine you took, the harder your body fought against it, which only made you sicker. Does that make any sense?"

To my surprise, it did make sense to me. "Yes, but that doesn't mean that our baby won't have the same problems."

"It does if we don't give him all kinds of medicine that he probably doesn't need."

"How do you know he won't need it?"

"You don't take medicine anymore," she squinted at me. "What do you do when you feel ill or out of sorts?"

I blushed. "I stand in the sunlight."

A smile formed on her delicate mouth. "Maybe that's the only medicine you ever really needed, but since your mom didn't know that, she kept giving you the prescriptions in the hope that they would help you."

I considered it and said, "So your plan for the baby is to just rely on the sun to help him?"

She nodded. "But I know that the baby is only a quarter Kryptonian, so sunlight might not be enough. We'll just have play it by ear… just like every other set of parents on this planet." When I looked at her questioningly, she said, "Babies are born with medical problems all the time, Jason. You don't have to be partially Kryptonian to have complications like a messed up immune system or a heart arrhythmia."

"True," I agreed. "But it doesn't change the fact that I'm still scared."

She kissed me. "I'll be fine. _We'll_ be fine," she corrected. "I'm just glad that you aren't upset with me for getting pregnant so unexpectedly."

"Hey, it takes two to tango."

She laughed and kissed me again. The kiss deepened and grew in intensity until both of our hearts were racing.

"Make love to me," she mumbled against my mouth. "Please…"

"I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't. You never have." Her hand slipped down my body suggestively.

I gasped and managed to say, "But you've never been pregnant before."

"Not true. We made love just before the reception that I fainted at and I was pregnant then, we just didn't know it."

I paused mid-kiss. "Are you sure you'll be okay?"

"I'm sure," she smiled and resumed the kiss. "Oh, just be careful with my breasts."

"All right," I said, kissing her again.

"I mean, you can touch me, just be gentle."

I smiled and pulled her lips between mine.

"Not that you aren't gentle. I mean, you're usually very gentle—"

"Kate," I snapped.

"Yes?"

"Shut up," I said gently.

She laughed and eased back into the kiss.

A good while later, after we had spent off the passion between us, I carried Kate into the bedroom and curled my body up against hers protectively. My hand once again found a home covering her stomach as she snuggled deeper under the covers.

"You've slept with your hand over the baby for three nights now," she observed. "Did you know that?"

"Sorry. Does it bother you?"

"No, not at all. I just… find it interesting."

"I'm kind of new at this whole pregnancy thing, you know."

"That makes two of us," she agreed with a chuckle.

"I'm just feeling a little helpless, I suppose. There's not much I can do from here on out except protect you."

"Protect me?" she said, turning her head slightly to look at me.

"If anyone were to ever know who I really am, you and the baby would be in a lot of danger."

She pulled my arms tight around her. "No one will ever know."

"Not even your parents, Kate. The more people that know, the greater the chance that the secret will get out."

I expected her to snap at me, but she just smiled and said she understood. "Speaking of my parents," she said, "I don't want to tell them until after the ultrasound. I don't want to tell anyone really until then."

I groaned. "Oh no, are we back to that?"

She rolled over to look at me. "I want to see that the baby is all right. I want to see him with my own eyes before I start telling everyone. It's only a few days."

"Okay," I agreed reluctantly.

"I thought we might have them over for dinner. You don't have anything Monday night, do you? We could invite your parents, too."

I took a deep breath. "What about Clark?"

She made a face. "I hadn't thought about that. My parents don't know Clark is your real father."

"And I don't know how well Mom would take to having dinner with Clark right now." Mom's anger over the fact that Clark hadn't told her the truth about his identity for so long was still enflamed. It had lessened, but certainly not to the point where she would be happy spending an entire evening in his presence.

"Why don't you just let me talk to Clark," I suggested.

She agreed and snuggled against me more closely. "I can't believe this is really happening," she said.

"Me neither. It's such an unusual feeling."

"Knowing there's a baby here, you mean."

"Exactly." My hand brushed over her side.

"When you come back from Europe, I won't be able to snuggle like this. I'll be too round." She said it as a tease, but upon mention of my trip, my whole body stiffened… and not in a romantic way.

"I'm not going to Europe," I announced.

She sat up on her elbows. "What? Why not?"

"You're pregnant, Kate."

"So?"

"So, I'm not leaving you."

She scowled at me. "Are you kidding me?"

"No. Why would I kid about something like this?"

She sat up fully and huffed. "You're going to give up the biggest opportunity of your career and potentially ruin your future because I'm pregnant?"

Incensed, I sat up, too. "I'm not leaving you, Kate. You're more important to me than this tour."

"Jason, be reasonable."

"I am being very reasonable. You're pregnant and my place is with you."

"Why? To protect me?" she scoffed

"Among other things."

"Jason, I don't need to be protected. And if I do get into any trouble, I know who to call."

"Yes, you'll call me, because I'll be here for you every step of the way. I'm not going to miss out on anything."

"You _won't_ miss out on anything, even if you do go!" she growled. "Look, I'm about seven weeks along. You leave in about a month and are only gong to be gone for six weeks. I won't even be…" she did the math in her head. "I'll be somewhere around twenty weeks when you come back. Twenty weeks! That's all!"

"It's not all."

"It's no big deal!"

I glared at her, "You don't think leaving your pregnant wife is a big deal?"

"For six weeks?"

I'd come to the end of my ability to reason with her and I snapped. "I am not leaving you! You are pregnant. I am your husband. And I am not leaving you! End of discussion!"

My temper had gotten the better of me and I knew it. Kate sat very still next to me and waited for me to calm down. Gently, she placed a hand on my leg.

"This doesn't have anything to do with you and me, does it?" she asked. "This is about your mom and Clark."

My head jerked around to look at her, for I couldn't deny the observation. "I made an agreement with myself a long time ago, long before we got married, that if ever you got pregnant, I would be here with you every step of the way."

"And you will be."

"Not if I go on this tour."

"It's six weeks – not five years. You'll be back in time for Thanksgiving and Christmas. You'll be here for the birth. We are married. You know I'm pregnant. You'll be able to call me and talk with me every day. This situation is so very different from what happened with your parents."

"Kate, don't ask me to leave you," I pleaded.

"I don't want you resenting the baby. I don't want you to look back in ten years or twenty years and say, 'If only we hadn't had a baby, I would have had a great career.'"

"You're assuming that I can't have a good career without going on this tour," I pointed out.

"I'm sure you'd be able to work something out, but you yourself have told me that being offered a tour like this is a huge deal! You told me that this was like your big break. And you have been looking forward to it for months now. There is no reason for you not to go."

"Kate—"

"I will be fine. If anything happens and I need help, I have a pretty reliable source I can go to. And we will talk every day. I'll send you pictures. Heck, maybe I can even come to see you."

My brows shot up. "Really? I was going to invite you to come to Paris while we were there. Do you think you could get away from work?"

She smiled. "I think it can be arranged. But I'm not going to Paris unless I get to hear you play that sexy Beethoven piece you go on about."

I didn't like the idea of leaving her at all. It was against everything I had in me, but she had made several valid points that I couldn't deny. "Are you sure about this?" I stressed. "Because I won't feel right about it unless you are completely sure."

"I'm sure. I'm very sure."

She kissed me and pulled me back to lie down. I wasn't completely sold on the idea, so it was impossible for me to relax. However, Kate was asleep in no time. The gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathed combined with the soothing repetition of her heartbeat calmed my nerves. But it was the addition of the faint, almost imperceptible fluttering coming from deep within her that held my attention.

A few days later when I joined Kate for her first ultrasound, I discovered what the fluttering really was. It was a sound that my ear was now trained to hear – a sound so profound that it would forever link Kate and me together more than any marriage certificate ever could. It was a sound that brought me more joy than I ever anticipated feeling, regardless of the worry and fear that came with it. A sound that held me in place and sent me soaring at the same time. A sound that changed my life forever. A gentle sound that left me amazed by the complexity of its existence. All that from something as simple as a child's heartbeat.


	30. Age 24: Generations

_6582_

_AN: The saying goes – write what you know. I have had two babies, so I do know a thing or two about being pregnant and giving birth. Still, every pregnancy is different, especially one involving a partially Kryptonian baby! LOL! That said, I'd like to warn anyone who might be sensitive to reading about babies that I tried to make this realistic without crossing the "gross" line. What that means is that you won't have to sift through text about potentially gross labor moments, but that not everything goes as planned. I hate to "spoil" anything for my readers, but I didn't want anyone to read this who may have had some complications and feel I was being insensitive to their feelings. Having written one other birth situation similar to this and been accused of not placing a warning at the start, I didn't want to make that same mistake here. I went though two very scary deliveries, myself, with one child ending up in the NICU for a few days, so I certainly can understand the need for a warning. (Both of my kids are perfectly healthy now!) If you've read my other stories in this AU, you know that Eric is just fine, but angst sells fan fiction and can't be avoided. But I give you the warning just in case. _

_Thanks to htbthomas and mithah for all their help in everything. You guys are my personal cheerleaders. And to van-el for keeping me taped into the mind of a man dealing with a pregnant wife. I may know what it is to be pregnant, but I've never experienced from the flip side! _

**Age 24 – Generations**

Forty weeks is a long time to wait for something to happen. It seems like such a very long time – as if you have plenty of time to plan for the event and make sure everything is ready and that you yourself are ready. But when it's a baby that you are waiting for, it's not nearly enough time. There is never enough time to get ready for a major change like having a baby. No matter how nicely the nursery is decorated or how many blankets you have or how well stocked your supply of diapers is, you will _always_ want more time. No advice, no book, no amount of thinking through the possibilities of the future can prepare you for the sensation of holding your own child in your hands.

However, what forty weeks does do for you is make you appreciate how normal your wife was before she was pregnant. Kate always had quirks that I thought were slightly ridiculous. Don't we all? But I loved her, and those quirks came with her. But those quirks are nothing compared to the total lack of sanity that accompanies a pregnancy.

I should have realized right from the start that this was how it was going to go. Given her bizarre behavior surrounding just the fact that she was pregnant and how reluctant she had been to admit the fact should have been a sign to me. But I kept hoping that whatever odd behavior she was participating in would soon pass. Sometimes it did…and sometimes it didn't.

For one thing, there was the whole food obsession. Foods she had once enjoyed were now totally off limits, while other foods she had always hated were craved desperately. I brought home her favorite chicken salad one night as a surprise only to have her dart to the bathroom and throw up. Yet a few nights later she called me before I came home and insisted that I bring her some olives. Olives, of all things! She ate the whole jar in one sitting, which in turn made_ me_ want to get sick.

She claimed it was the salt that she craved, for she had also started frying up bacon to eat at every meal, but I knew better. There was no salt in candied apples, and yet she ate those like they were going out of style!. I guess it was the time of year. Every other vendor along the street was offering candied apples in the fall, and Kate happily bought her fair share, stating that she needed to try one from a new vendor every day.

I put up with it never saying a word, for I knew there wasn't anything she could say that would help me understand. I would never _really_ understand, and for that I was thankful. However, I have to admit that my behavior wasn't completely sane either. The closer my tour drew near, the more nervous I became over having to leave her. If I had a dime for every time Kate glared at me and said, "We will be _fine_," I'd be a wealthy man indeed. She wasn't seeing it from my point of view and it was starting to anger me, so much so that I actually broke down one day and tried to put it in terms that she would understand.

It was one week before I was to leave and we were again fighting about the fact that I was worried and how unnecessary she felt it was when I laid it out for her. "Kate," I said with my hands on my hips, "are you aware that we have four fire extinguishers in the apartment? Four! We have less than a thousand square feet of space. And if a fire did happen, I could probably blow it out! Yet _my _worrying is unnecessary."

It had been the wrong thing to say. Her sharp gasp and gaping expression told me as much. Still, the point had been made. She was angry at me for a few hours after that. In fact, it wasn't until we were getting ready for bed that she let me apologize.

"I shouldn't have said it like that," I offered. "But I needed for you to try to understand where my worry comes from."

"I know where it comes from," she sighed. "And I know that my fear of fire is no different from your abandonment issues."

I frowned, not liking hearing it stated in such a way.

"So, I can accept your concern and I promise to stop telling you not to worry. Okay? But you're still going on your tour," she insisted.

I wrapped my arms around her and said, "I'll make a deal with you. I'll stop talking about how much I don't want to go if you get rid of one of the fire extinguishers."

She thought about it a moment and then agreed.

However, there were still four extinguishers in the apartment when I left for England, and my fear of leaving her only grew in intensity. The moment we checked into our hotel in London, I called her to see how she was doing. I called her every day, sometimes twice a day, and at all random hours of the day. I didn't get much sleep, and I know she didn't either, for several of my calls came in the middle of the night for her.

I relaxed a little for the five days she joined me in Paris. She looked slightly different with a slight roundness to her tummy, but no one that saw her assumed she was pregnant. It was wonderful to have her with me in such a romantic city, but it didn't last long. The whole time she was there I kept dreading the day she would leave again to return home. When she did leave, I went with her to the airport and simply held her for a long time right there in the middle of the entrance to the concourse. We'd only been apart for less than two weeks, and facing nearly another four weeks before I saw her again was torture.

When the tour was over, the orchestra was scheduled to attend a reception in our honor. The plan was to give us one more day in Venice to see the sights as well as celebrate in the evening. I couldn't stand the wait. The extra day was pointless, in my opinion. So I told the Maestro that I was needed at home and then called in a favor from a certain family member. Given the time difference as well as the fact that Clark was so much faster than an airplane, I arrived home two days early.

It was night and Kate was curled up on her side in bed, asleep. She looked beautiful with her hair all splayed out across the pillow. I quietly slipped out of my sweater and jeans and climbed under the covers, gently sliding my hand around her as I drew her near. Kate screamed and bolted up and out of my reach.

"Kate! It's me!" I said, trying to calm her down.

Her wild eyes stared at me in the darkness. "Jason? What are you doing here?"

"I live here."

She groaned and collapsed against me, holding on to me tightly. "I wasn't expecting you until Sunday!"

"I know. I couldn't wait. I had to come home."

"How?"

"Clark," I said simply.

"I'm glad. I missed you."

"I missed you."

And then we were kissing. I wasn't sure which set of lips made the first move, but it didn't matter. Our mouths met and the world went away. Her heart was racing in her chest, as was mine. I pulled her against me, needing to feel her body flush against mine. But there was a complication - a bump that hadn't been so obvious the last time I had seen her. I pulled away from her to marvel at the swell of her abdomen.

"What do you think?" she asked, nervously biting at her bottom lip.

"I think… I think this is amazing," I said honestly.

"Not too fat?"

"You're not fat. You're pregnant." I stated for what would be the first of many times. "And you're beautiful." I kissed her. "And I want to make love to you."

She chuckled. "Don't I even get a 'Hello, darling. I'm home from Europe'?"

"Hello, darling," I mumbled against her mouth. "I'm home from Europe. Now, I'd like to make love to you." I broke away as a sudden thought popped into my mind. "Unless… we can't or we shouldn't," I said, touching her belly carefully.

She laughed full out at me now. "We can… and we should!"

That night had felt so normal, in spite of the fact that her body was now shaped differently. Everything else had been so normal and familiar that I had hoped this meant the majority of her unusual behavior had passed with her first trimester. To my disappointment, it hadn't. The oddities had, in fact, increased, starting with the unending debate of how large she was getting and if I still found her attractive. Of course I was still attracted to her, but no amount of persuasion seemed to do the trick unless we made love. I didn't have any complaints about that, though.

I did, however, have complaints about her inability to remember anything that I said to her. Her short-term memory seemed to be completely malfunctioning unless the information specifically concerned the baby. She could remember each and every detail she had read or that had spoken by the doctor, but she couldn't remember that I had said I would be late on Thursday night or that her regular ten o'clock appointment for Friday had been canceled. She even said, "I feel like I'm losing my mind!" I agreed with her one hundred percent, but I didn't dare say it out loud.

But Kate's main oddity started shortly after her second ultrasound. Seeing the baby so clearly was something I myself hadn't been prepared for, so I could only imagine how amazed Kate must have felt. After all, she had been feeling the baby move for a few weeks. Putting an actual face, no matter how blurry the image, to the life inside of her left us both a little speechless. But it was the announcement that the baby was a boy that caused all the commotion.

Personally, I was thrilled. I wasn't quite sure of myself around babies. Knowing that we were having a boy eased some of my worries. I would have been happy with a girl, but I wasn't going to lie about it and say that I didn't feel more comfortable with a boy. The appropriate thing would have been to say, "I just want a healthy baby," which was true. But honestly, from the start I was hoping for a boy simply because I thought it would be an easier adjustment.

As happy as Kate was about it, it sent her into what I soon dubbed the name game. It would have happened with a girl, too, so at least I knew her craziness wasn't brought on by having a boy rather than a girl. A baby girl would need a name just as much as a boy, but right now it was only boy names that she was interested in. For the next four months – what turned out to be the rest of her pregnancy – right up until the baby was born – Kate played her name game with me.

"How about Joshua?" she asked.

"That's nice," I replied.

"No, too biblical," she countered. "Which rules out Michael, Luke, Matthew, Paul, Peter—"

"I'm not naming my son Peter," I demanded. Having a father named Richard had taught me a few things about what _not _to name a child.

Or she would ask, "How about Albert?"

"It's okay."

"No," she said, once again disagreeing with herself. "He'd be called Al and I don't really like the sound of Al White."

I didn't either, so I didn't argue.

"What about Lionel?"

"Sounds fine to me."

"No, Lex Luthor's father was named Lionel."

Well, we obviously couldn't have that.

"How about Elliott?"

"Elliott's good."

"No, it makes me think of that kid in E.T."

"What's wrong with that?"

"Extra Terrestrial?"

"Oh." She had a point.

After a few weeks of this, I started suggesting my own. "How about Fred?"

"Too Flintstone-y."

"Harry?"

"As in Potter?"

"Bob?"

"Too simple."

"Olaf?"

"Be serious."

How could anyone be serious with her finding fault with every name suggested – even the ones she suggested on her own? It went on like this for months.

"Tobias?"

"Sure, if we call him Toby."

"No, I don't like Toby."

Then she suggested, "Alastar?"

"Fine." I wasn't sold on the name, but by that point I was ready to agree to anything to get her to stop. I had no such luck.

"No, too formal."

I did have a few I disagreed with though. "Darius?"

"No, it makes me think of someone's rear end."

"Hayden?"

"Do you want him to be a target for bullies?"

"Bailey?"

"It sounds like a dog's name."

"Sean?"

I didn't have any problem with Sean. To my ultimate surprise, Kate didn't have any problem with it either. And so for nearly an entire week the baby was going to be named Sean. That was until we got a birth announcement in the mail from one of Kate's friends stating that she had named her baby Sean. Kate couldn't name our baby the same thing that her friend named her baby, of course. And so the name game agonizingly continued.

On top of all this, I had to deal with a wife with swollen feet who would send me out first thing in the morning for pizza. Every time she would promise me it would be the last time, and then she would send me out the next morning for Lo Mein. I spent my birthday shopping for baby furniture. She promised me it would be fun and that she needed my opinion, but once you've seen half a dozen cribs, they all look the same. Ultimately, we got a crib that was made of dark wood that Kate liked.

I didn't get much sleep at night because Kate was constantly cold and used me as her personal warming device. She said it was because the baby craved sunlight, and at night, when the sun was down, the baby needed extra warmth. I couldn't much argue with that, so I would oblige her and hold her all night long. And then, of course, there were the false labor pains that only seemed to happen at night. She would jump up and I would immediately bolt awake, at which point she would make me feel how hard her tummy was until it cleared and stopped and she could fall back asleep. As time passed, those startling moments grew in frequency and my ability to fall back asleep lessened.

"Eric," she said out of the blue one morning.

"Who?"

"Eric. Eric White."

I tested the name for myself and found that I liked it. She patted her stomach and repeated the name. "I think he likes it," she said.

I waited a whole week for her to find fault with the name before taking my mother's suggestion and getting a rattle engraved. Mom told me that it would be a wonderful gift and that Kate would love me for it. Dad had given her a Tiffany's rattle just before I was born. She showed me a picture of myself as a baby holding this oversized silver toy in my chubby hand. I couldn't remember the thing, but seeing how sentimental Mom was getting over the photo I figured an engraved rattle was something Kate would find charming. To my delight, she did, and I was kissed quite soundly for my thoughtfulness.

The last bit of craziness came at the very end of the pregnancy. Kate had been consumed with fear that the baby would be born early and had been very careful not to do anything too strenuous that might bring on premature labor. That was up until she made it to her due date. Once we were home free and the doctor said that the baby could be born any time now, Kate was almost like a workaholic. All the hesitation and worry she had placed on making sure the baby wouldn't arrive early was channeled into her growing frustration over why the baby was so late! I wanted to tell her to make up her mind, but I knew that would only get me in trouble, so I held my tongue.

Then, late one night in mid-April, it happened. She went to bed before me complaining of being too tired to hold her eyes open. I joined her a short while later only to find that she was still awake. She said she was restless and tense and needed to move, which she did. She must have crawled in and out of the bed half a dozen times before she admitted to me that she really felt weird.

"Describe weird," I pressed.

"Uncomfortable."

That wasn't anything new. She'd been uncomfortable for months. "How do you mean?"

"I mean that I feel pressure. Here," she indicated the lower section of her round belly.

"Pressure – as in a contraction?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know if you're having contractions?"

"Not really. It could be, but I don't know."

I growled at her. "Kate, either it's a contraction or it's not. How can you not know?"

"Because I've never had a baby before, Mr. Smarty Pants! I don't know what it feels like. All I've felt so far are false labor pains."

It was a valid point. "Do these feel worse? I mean, wouldn't real labor feel worse than false labor?"

"I don't know. It doesn't really hurt, it just feels… different."

She wasn't being very helpful, but what could I do about it. Truth was, there wasn't anything either of us could do but wait to see what happened. So we waited, and she paced, and I fidgeted. We both tried to sleep, and I was nearly there when I felt her grab my arm and heard her wince in pain.

"Okay, that officially hurt," she declared somewhat nonchalantly.

"So, this is it?"

"I think so."

The nervous energy I felt flood my body sent my heart racing. I hopped out of the bed and started gathering up the things Kate had set aside to take to the hospital.

"Wait!" she called to me. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to take you to the hospital." Wasn't that obvious?

"Not yet. We should wait a while."

"Wait?" I said, slightly horrified. "You're having a baby!"

"It's going to take a while. I should stay here until the contractions get a little stronger."

"But you need to see a doctor," I argued.

"They will want to give me drugs and I don't want that. It's safer if I stay here."

I sat down on the bed next to her, anxiety pulsing through my veins. "Kate, I don't know what I'm doing."

"That makes two of us."

"You should be at the hospital."

"Not yet."

My head fell forward. "This isn't safe. What if something goes wrong?"

"Trust me on this, Jason." She squeezed my hand and smiled at me. There was a sense of calm and peace in her eyes that I couldn't ignore.

"Okay. We can wait. But not too long."

Not too long turned into four hours. Kate's ability to calmly breathe through a contraction was gone along with my ability to wait another minute. Ignoring her continual protests that if she saw the doctor too soon he would give her drugs, I carried her to the car and drove her to the hospital. Once she was checked in and given a room, I started to feel much better. They hooked her up to all sorts of monitors that would keep track of the baby's heart rate as well as Kate's contractions. I had been listening to both of their hearts for hours now, and it was a relief that I didn't have to rely on my own senses to determine if there was any danger.

"You're about six centimeters dilated," the doctor announced in an obnoxiously happy voice.

Kate, on the other hand, looked miserable. "Only six? You've got to be kidding?"

The doctor smiled. "This is your first baby. It can take a while. We can give you something that would help speed things up, if you'd like."

"NO!" we said in unison, getting an odd look from not only the doctor, but also the two nurses in the room.

"I don't want any drugs," Kate insisted.

"Okay," the doctor said with a shrug. "Just know that if you want some pain relief, we have options that won't hurt the baby."

"I don't want_ any_ drugs," Kate repeated.

The next several hours were some of the longest of my life. As Kate's pain increased, so did my own apprehension and fear. What if it was too much for her? Was it normal for it to hurt that much? It seemed to me that it was taking much longer than it should. And there was nothing I could do to make things better. All I could do was sit and hold Kate's hand and listen to her cry and gasp and groan. I hated it, and I doubted that Kate liked it any better than I did.

My mom and dad showed up at around eight in the morning, followed shortly afterwards by Kate's parents. Clark had told me a while back that when the time came, he would be close, but that he wouldn't be in the hospital with us. He felt his presence would make mom uncomfortable, and he didn't want to add stress. So, I knew that he wouldn't be arriving until after the baby was born. Each of our parents offered a smile and told us that everything Kate was going through was normal. Kate's dad tried to convince her to get an epidural, but she wouldn't listen to him.

"Can't you talk some sense into her, Jason?" he pleaded with me.

"I'm sorry. I agree with her on this one," I forced myself to say to him. The truth was, I agreed with him. She'd been in pain now for so long that I, too, wanted her to take the medicine and get some relief. Yet I couldn't bring myself to say that to her. She'd come so far, and I knew that if she saw any sign of retreat from me that it would anger her and potentially make things worse.

So, I stayed by her side through the whole thing, literally and figuratively. When the time came for her to push, she grabbed my hand and squeezed so hard that her fingernails actually left a mark. I was impressed by her strength as well as worried by how much pain her body must be in to garner that kind of ability.

"You're almost there, Mrs. White," the doctor said. "Just a few more pushes and this baby will be born!"

Every ounce of Kate's strength was focused on those last few pushes. I could see the determination in her face. I could feel it though the vice-like grip she had on my hand. Every inch of her body was tense as she used all her energy to bring our baby into the world.

I could do nothing but stare in wonder as the tiny miracle that was our son came into view. I had thought that I would find the experience too graphic to watch, but in reality, I couldn't pull my eyes away from him. He was so tiny and his limbs looked awkward as he made his first movements. His head was covered in dark, curly hair that was matted to his crown. His skin was pink and healthy looking. He was perfect, and my heart nearly burst from the indescribable emotion I felt.

They laid him on Kate's stomach and started to clean him off. A repeating, amazed sigh of "Oh my gosh – oh my gosh," fell from her lips as she made her own appraisal of the infant. At a loss for words, I only reached out to hesitantly touch him and validate the reality of the moment.

And then everything changed. The mood in the room suddenly shifted as the nurse picked up the baby and whisked him over to the examination table that had been brought a short while ago. The other nurses in the room crowded around him so that he was blocked from our sight.

"What is it?" Kate said, taking my hand.

The hushed voices of the nurses sliced through me like a knife.

"He's not crying."

"He needs air."

"He should be breathing."

"Call the NICU."

"Jason?" Kate's panicked voice drew my attention. "Why isn't he crying?"

My own breath hitched as I said, "He isn't breathing."

"What? _What_?" she said hysterically.

"Let's get a respirator," one nurse said.

"And we need to start and IV," another said.

Every fiber of my being told me to move and to move fast. Without any explanation to anyone in the room, I darted to the window and threw open the curtains. "Get him into the sunlight!" I ordered.

The nurse looked at me as if I was insane, but I repeated my demand. "NOW!" I barked.

When they didn't move, I pushed them aside and pulled the table the few inches necessary to place the baby directly into the path of the sunlight pouring into the room.

"MR. WHITE!" the doctor shouted at me, but I ignored him.

"Come on, little guy," I said softly to the infant. "Feel it."

To my utter relief, as well as everyone else in the room, the silence that had filled the space of a few seconds was shattered by the piercing wail of a baby. The doctor shoved me backwards and began examining the baby. I willingly let him, knowing that everything would be all right now. I didn't know how I knew it, but I did. Realizing how scared Kate must be, I took her hand and tried to calm her down.

It wasn't until she had Eric wrapped up in her arms that she allowed herself to relax at all. Tears fell quietly down her face and she cradled him and kissed his little face. "Is he okay?" she asked me, but it was the doctor who answered her.

"He seems perfectly fine now," he assured her. "Sometimes babies just need a little help getting started."

I kissed her hair and enjoyed the sight of her holding the baby. She was more beautiful than I had ever seen her, in spite of how tired I knew she must be. The baby in her arms wiggled and opened his eyes for the first time. Kate gasped and told me to come and see.

"Blue," she said tenderly.

"Most babies have blue eyes," the nurse said.

We shared a knowing glance between the two of us and then fixed our eyes once again on our son. The doctor gave Kate some instructions and the nurse told us she would be back in a little while to take the baby for his official checkup. And then we were left alone.

We sat in silence for a long while, neither one of us knowing what to say. There were no words to describe the moment. Was there any way to articulate a feeling so intense and personal as this? I didn't think so, which is why I opted to just look at him. I knew I had a goofy sort of grin on my face, but it couldn't be helped.

"It's a little overwhelming, isn't it?" Kate said in a hushed voice.

"That doesn't even begin to cover it," I replied.

"He looks like you," she observed.

She was right. He did look like me. But I thought there was something about his nose that reminded me of Kate. "He has your nose though."

"Nope," she said with a laugh. "That's all you, Jason. Those genes of yours are too strong."

"Honey," I groaned. 

"Hey, I happen to think you are very handsome," she smiled. "I'm ecstatic that he looks like you."

I kissed her lips. "I love you." I kissed her again. "I can't even tell you how much I love you." And then I kissed the baby's tiny forehead. "I love you, too, little guy."

"Eric," Kate said.

"Eric," I repeated.

A soft rap on the door broke the moment. We looked to see the door crack open and my mother's face peek through. "Can we come in?"

Leave it to my ever-impatient mother to want to be the first one to see the baby. I stood up and was prepared to tell them to give us a few minutes, but Kate signaled them all to come in. One by one they each held the baby and fussed over him, as grandparents should. Every single one of them commented on how much the baby looked like me, which made me blush and feel a bit guilty for it.

My mom and Kate's stepmother also fussed over Kate. How was she feeling and what she should expect from here on out. Kate's father made mention of how much this moment would have meant to her real mother, which brought on a whole new set of tears. The comment drove home the fact that Clark wasn't there, and out of instinct my eyes met Dad's. I could tell he was thinking the same thing I was, only he seemed very angry about it.

After a short visit, I ushered everyone out of the room, insisting that Kate be allowed to get some rest. They all agreed with me and said their goodbyes, making promises to return tomorrow. While Mom chatted with Kate's parents about having them stay over for a few days, Dad pulled me to the side for a private conversation.

"So, where is he?"

I didn't need any help understanding who "he" was. "I don't know, but he said he'd come by when it wouldn't be uncomfortable for Mom."

Dad rolled his eyes. "That's ridiculous. The whole thing makes Lois uncomfortable and he knows it."

"What did you expect him to do?" I asked.

"I expected him to be here," he said harshly.

"And he will be," I said slowly.

Dad shook his head. "I don't know how you trust him, Jason."

Before I could respond, Mom pulled Dad over to her to tell him what had been arranged for the rest of the week.

I did trust Clark, but at the same time I understood Dad's own distrust of him. And even though I trusted him, I _had_ begun to wonder where he was. I hadn't even caught a glimpse of him since the whole thing had started. I refused to believe that he would miss this, regardless of what else might have happened in the world today. Kate even asked if he had come by while she was asleep, so I knew that she, too, felt his absence.

It wasn't until late that evening while Kate was asleep when I stepped out to go get something to drink that I saw him. He was standing off to the side of the hallway, looking as if he were hiding from something. His face lit up in a smile when he saw me.

"What are you doing out here?" I asked as I approached him.

His smile faded. "I just came to see the baby."

"You'd have a better view if you came into the room."

"I didn't want to wake them up."

"It's fine. Kate told me to make sure you got to see the baby. She will understand."

He frowned. "I know she had a rough time."

His concern was genuine, and I couldn't scold him for it. "Kate's fine. She's doing great. So's the baby. We had a little scare at the start, but he's doing really great now."

"I know," he smiled again.

"So, why don't you come in and see them?"

He hesitated. "It just feels…" He shook his head. "I don't want to intrude."

My head fell backwards as I groaned. "You wouldn't be intruding. My God!" I kept my voice low, but intense as I looked at him directly. "Don't pull this on me today. I can't deal with it. Not today. How many times have I heard you say how much you regret that you weren't there when I was born? Well, this is your grandson and today is the day he was born. Now, are you going to go in and see him or stay out here and miss holding your grandson on the day he was born?"

He blinked, and then nodded. "You're right. I do want to see him."

"Good," I smiled, "because I'd be royally ticked off at you if you didn't."

I led him into the room, but he stopped just inside the door. We'd placed the hospital bassinette that Eric slept in over by the window. I went to him and gently picked him up.

"He's already responding to sunlight," I said, walking over to Clark. "We've kept him over there for most of the day now. The nurses think we're nuts." I stood in front of Clark and held the baby up slightly. "Clark Kent, meet Eric Jonathan White. Eric, this is your grandfather."

"Jonathan?" Clark said in surprise.

"Kate's grandpa was named Jonathan. When I told her your dad was Jonathan, too, we agreed that it would be a good name to use."

Clark looked down at the sleeping infant with wonder. "Oh, Jason. He's so beautiful."

I couldn't help but smile proudly. "You want to hold him?"

Clark reacted as if I'd asked him if pigs could fly. "I um… I um…"

I laughed. "Come on. Take him."

"I've never held a newborn baby before," he admitted.

"Me neither," I chuckled. "First time for everything, huh?"

Carefully, I placed the baby in Clark's arms, still finding it comical that he actually seemed afraid of the harmless infant. "He's so tiny!" he marveled. "It doesn't feel like he weighs anything."

"Eight pounds, ten ounces," Kate said, taking us both by surprise. "Twenty-two inches long. Trust me, he's big enough."

"I'm sorry if we woke you up," Clark said.

"Don't worry about it," Kate assured him. "I'm going to be waking up every few hours anyway to feed him."

The baby squirmed and Clark tensed up. "Did I do something wrong?"

"Nope," I said. "He heard Kate's voice. We've noticed that sunlight and Kate's voice seem to grab his attention."

Clark just stared down at Eric for a good long while, taking in all of his delicate features one by one. "He looks like you," he noted.

"I've heard that a lot today," I muttered.

"From all the pictures I've seen… I wish…" Clark let the sentence go unfinished. He looked up at me, and I understood what it was he was trying to say. Seeing Eric only confirmed for him how much he had missed when I was born. And now that I had experienced becoming a father for myself, I was keenly aware of just how much he regretted not being there when I was little. I couldn't imagine not having the chance to hold my little son, and I knew that the tears forming in Clark's eyes were not just for the joy he felt for Eric, but for the sadness he felt for me as well.

"He's perfect," Clark said, looking over at Kate, and then to me. "I'm so happy for you."

"Well, Kate did all the work," I said, trying to lighten the moment.

His eyes darted from Eric, over to Kate, then to me, and back to the baby. The smile on Clark's face brightened when Eric opened his eyes for a moment. "So amazing," he murmured.

He held Eric a few more minutes until the baby started to fuss and demand some dinner. Tenderly, Clark passed the baby to Kate. Eric instantly curled into her arms, as if he knew from touch alone that his mother was now holding him. I followed Clark out of the room to give Kate and Eric the privacy they needed.

We hadn't even taken five steps down the hall when Clark swirled around and pulled me to him. The movement was so fast it startled me. He held me tight against him, his fingers pressing into my back, his arms squeezing me as if he couldn't hold me close enough. He didn't move at all. He just stood there, still as stone, and held me. I could count on my hands the number of times he had hugged me, but never had it felt like this. Every other time, I had assumed he was doing it because I needed or wanted to be hugged. This time, I knew it was for him. He was a father who just needed to hold his son. For the first time, I clearly understood what that meant.

"I love you so much, Jason," he said.

"I love you, too, Dad." I repeated. It wasn't the first time I had said it to him. That had happened when I told him Kate was pregnant, but I hadn't said it since then. I was surprised at how easily the words came to me now.

He pulled away to smile down at me. "I'm so happy for you."

"Thanks. But no more of this 'I don't want to interfere' garbage, okay?"

"You got it." His smile brightened. "I should let you get back to your family."

"It's your family, too, you know."

He seemed taken aback by the comment, as if he'd never considered it that way. "Thank you, Jason."

"Oh no!" The sudden cry came from Kate.

"I better go see what's up," I said to him as I opened the door to Kate's room. "I'll call you when we're home, okay?" He nodded, and I went in to see what was bothering Kate. "What's wrong?" I asked her.

Her face was distraught. "We can't call him Eric!"

"What do you mean we can't call him Eric?" I whined.

"The Little Mermaid!"

"What about it?"

"Eric was her prince!"

I blinked in utter confusion at her. "So?"

"He'll be teased!"

She was serious about this. She was going to change his name solely on the fact that some fictional character shared his name. It was insanity – plain and simple insanity! And here I had hoped that the madness that had infected my wife would end once the baby was born. This was proof that my hopes had been dashed.

"Kate, who _cares_?" I laughed out loud at her. "You are never going to find a name with absolutely no connections whatsoever. I like the name Eric. We picked Eric. We told everyone that his name was Eric. I even got the damn rattle thingy engraved with Eric! His name is going to stay Eric!"

She sniffed and looked down at the baby. "Okay. If you say so."


	31. Age 25: Loss

_AN: Yeah… it's that chapter. You may need a tissue. I'm not saying that I'm certain I did my job and hit a home run with the angst here, but I have been told by the beta readers that tissues might come in handy while reading this one. Lots of thanks to htbthomas – the fastest beta reader EVER. And Hellish Red Devil – the beta with the best commentary EVER. And van-el – the beta who never lets me stop and take the easy route. _

_It may be a while before my next update. I have a few other things to work out in the Twilight fandom as well as deal with Thanksgiving and family and life. Please don't' stress if you don't hear from me in a few weeks. I already have two pages going and I am SOOOO excited for the next chapter! It may even have to be a two-parter, just so van-el can get the nasty cliff hanger he requested. _

**Age 25 – Loss**

Someone once said that change was good. I have to disagree with them quite emphatically. I would say that _some_ change is good. The change your life takes when you have a baby is a good change, for the most part. The change that happens when you get a promotion at work is a good change. But in my opinion, most changes are bad. Like when you find out exactly what can and can't hurt your seemingly healthy son. Or when you find out your parents aren't indestructible. I found out both in the space of a week.

We moved into a house just outside of the city about five months after Eric was born. It was a small house, but it was in a nice neighborhood and we were still close enough to the city that both Kate and I could still work. She cut back on hours to be with Eric as well as to take correspondence classes to get her Masters. It wasn't easy, but somehow we made it work.

For his first year of life, Eric seemed just as healthy as any normal baby. His ears seemed a bit more sensitive than they should be, and there were times when he would get a grip on a toy or a bottle that was unusually strong, but he was healthy. That was always our main concern. Keep him healthy. Even when the time came for him to have his immunization shots, we held our breath and waited for a reaction, but none came. Whatever it was about my own biological make-up that may have made me sick didn't seem to have carried on to my son, much to our relief. So, when Eric became violently ill over the Fourth of July weekend, there was no denying the cause.

It started on July third when Eric wouldn't eat his dinner. He always had a hearty appetite, especially for mashed potatoes and gravy, yet that night he just wouldn't eat them. As the evening progressed, he grew more and more drowsy, and not in a natural way that a child gets sleepy. It was as if he was dizzy and couldn't focus. He didn't seem to be able to look directly at us, nor could he stand up properly. The sun had set, so my instinct to place him in direct sunlight was thwarted. As had been our agreement from the day he was born, I called Clark right away to ask for his help.

We expected Eric to return from his flight with Clark looking pink and bright-eyed, but that wasn't the case. He was just as sick as he had been, maybe even sicker.

"Why wouldn't sunlight help?" Kate asked, holding Eric close to her. "It's always helped before."

"I stayed up there a long time," Clark explained, looking as helpless as I felt. "I kept waiting for him to perk up, but it just didn't happen."

I frowned and looked over at my son. "Do you suppose it might take him longer to respond to the radiation? I mean, maybe it takes his body longer to process the sunlight and then recoup."

Clark nodded. "It's possible. I'll wait around for a while to see, if you don't mind."

Clark did wait, but Eric's condition only worsened as the night went on.

"Maybe it's just some kind of bug," Clark offered. Kate and I both looked up at him in surprise. "He is more human than Kryptonian, after all. Humans get sick."

"No," I disagreed. "Not like this. It doesn't make any sense. We haven't given him any medicine. He hasn't done anything out of the ordinary. He was outside in the sun all day today, right?" I looked to Kate.

"We went to the park. He was fine. He played like he always does."

My heart broke at the sound of fear in my wife's voice. "It doesn't make sense," I repeated. "He shouldn't be sick. It's almost like he—" And then it hit me. The reason he was sick. I looked over at Clark with wide eyes.

"What is it?" he asked.

"The only thing that makes me sick like that is kryptonite," I explained.

Kate inhaled sharply.

Clark's jaw was firm. "I don't feel any kryptonite."

"Me neither."

"One of us would feel it if it were anywhere near here," Clark said. "It can't be kryptonite."

I turned to look at Kate. "You didn't go anywhere else but the park? You didn't go downtown or over by the water? It's been known to show up along the shore."

"No," she stressed. "We were here all day."

By the time morning came, Kate was ready to take Eric to the hospital. It was against everything she'd ever said about how she would care for our son, but we had run out of options. He was running a fever. His normal body temperature was usually somewhere around 99.5 degrees right now, but overnight it had spiked to 103. That was too high, even for a partial Kryptonian. And he had thrown up. It wasn't a lot since he hadn't had much to eat, but it was enough to trigger Kate's protective mother instincts.

The doctor went to work right away on lowering Eric's body temperature and put him on an IV. It was nothing less than torture watching my fifteen-month-old son being stabbed with needles. Eric's vocabulary was too limited for him to actually be able to communicate with us about where it hurt, but that didn't stop him from crying out words like "MAMMA!" and "DADDY!" and "NO!" Every cry sent chills down my spine.

I tried to be the strong one, both for Kate and for Eric, but it was taking its toll on me. I excused myself at one point, claiming the need to go get a drink, and actually went into the family lobby where I could let out some of the frustration I was feeling. If it hadn't been for my dad hunting me down and talking to me, I think I would have lost it right then and there.

"I know exactly what you're going through," Dad said, sitting down next to me. "Believe me, I know. Your Mom and I – we went though this kind of thing from the moment you were born."

My eyes had grown wet, but I fought back the tears. "How did you do it? Because I don't ever remember seeing you lose it like I'm about to."

"No, you never saw it, but I did have my moments where I just had to let myself be angry at the world. I would do exactly what you are doing right now. I'd find a private place, away from Lois because I didn't want her to know how bad it was, and just yell and scream and curse until I felt I could go back in there and hold your hand and tell you everything would be fine. And the worst of it was that I had to make you believe it when I didn't believe it myself. There was nothing I could do to make it better. Nothing could take away your sickness. But I had to make you believe otherwise. And that's what you have to do now. It's part of being a father."

The respect I felt for my dad in that moment was profound. I'd never felt closer to him. It was like I knew him better than ever before – that we had a real link to something that only the two of us could feel. And I loved him for it. For everything he had done for me then and for what he was doing for me now.

He clapped me on my shoulder and smiled faintly at me. "You'll get through this, Jason. Eric is a strong little boy."

"I know," I said firmly. "That's why this is so hard to accept. He shouldn't be sick."

"You shouldn't have been sick, either."

"But Dad," I leaned closer to talk to him in a whisper. "The only thing I can think of that would make him sick like this is kryptonite, but there isn't any around here. I would know. I would feel it. And if I did feel it, I certainly wouldn't live around it."

"You wouldn't have to be living around it. It's portable. It could come to you."

I made a face. "What do you mean?"

"It's a rock," he stated plainly. "It doesn't have to be imbedded in the ground. It could be just a rock somewhere. Maybe Eric picked up something that he thought was a harmless, pretty green rock. You did once."

"I did?"

"Well, you weren't little like Eric. But that whole thing on the boat with your friends… that was kryptonite. And it was portable."

I considered it for a moment and decided on a plan of action. "Will you tell Kate I'm going to go have a look around the park? I want to see if there's anything there."

Fifteen minutes later, I stood in the middle of a playground filled with happy, squealing children enjoying their holiday. I tried not to see them, keeping my eyes directed to the ground for any sign of the green rock I knew so well. I even used my X-ray vision to peer under the earth and see if it was in the ground and just too small for me to feel. But there was nothing.

I was about to give up when I spotted two boys playing with marbles. I don't know why I was drawn to them, but I was. To my amazement, three of their so-called marbles were jade green in color. Surely it couldn't be something as simple as this? I bent down and asked the boys if I could see their marbles, and they agreed. I picked up one of the green ones and instantly knew it was the source I'd been looking for.

"Where did you get this?" I asked them.

"My brother makes them. He likes rocks. He collects rocks and then takes them to school and makes stuff out of them."

"In school?" I'd never heard of such a thing. "How old is your brother?"

"He's fifteen. He does it in his shop class. He says that's what he wants to be when he grows up."

I looked more closely at the marble in my hands and wondered why something so small would have had such a profound effect on Eric. If he had been near the kryptonite yesterday, he should be fine now. Now that I had found the source, Eric's illness seemed more a mystery than ever.

"Those green ones are my favorite," the second little boy said. "I used to have four, but I lost one yesterday."

I looked over at him. "You lost one? How?"

"Some little baby took it. I think he swallowed it."

My insides squirmed. If Eric had swallowed it… swallowed kryptonite… there's no telling what it would do to his little body. I made it back to the hospital in no time and explained everything to my family. Somewhere in the back of my mind I noted that Clark and Mom were in the same room together and that they weren't fighting, but I couldn't focus on that now. All I could concentrate on was how to get the marble out of my son's stomach.

Upon my request, Clark looked Eric over and found the marble exactly where I had said it would be.

"Why didn't I see it sooner?" he said with regret.

"Why didn't I?" I said, echoing his sentiment.

The easiest solution would be to tell the doctor to perform an X-ray on Eric. Then the doctor would see the marble and want to extract it as quickly as possible. However, being a radioactive substance, kryptonite wouldn't show up properly on the negative of an X-ray and could very well do damage to the machine.

We were all trying to think of some logical and normal way to convince the doctor that there was a harmful substance in Eric's body - without mentioning the marble - that needed to come out when Eric himself provided the ultimate solution for us. He vomited. While I had been out, the doctor insisted upon feeding him. Eric's body rejected the food… and along with the food came the marble. He choked on the object, which made us all panic that much more, but once the nurse cleared out his mouth, he was fine.

The change that came over Eric then was almost instantaneous. I carried him over to the window, dragging his IV with us, so that he could soak up the sunlight. Within two hours his temperature had dropped and he was playing and acting like a normal fifteen-month-old baby again. However, the hospital wouldn't release him until his temperature was normal – meaning 98.7 degrees. Kate and I both knew that was never going to happen, but convincing the doctor of that was another thing altogether. So, Eric spent the night in the hospital under observation.

"He still has a mild fever, but he seems perfectly fine other than that," the doctor said as he signed the release forms. "If it starts to spike again, bring him in right away."

There was no need, for Eric was back to normal as if nothing had ever happened. Kate was another story though. She felt guilty for not seeing that he put the marble in his mouth, let alone swallowed it. She hovered over Eric endlessly, fussing over every detail she possibly could in an attempt to make up for the fact that she'd looked away from him for two seconds. No amount of reassurance from me or anyone else could convince her that it hadn't been her fault. She called me three or four times a day for the next week to report any unusual behavior, afraid that she might make another mistake.

Upon my Dad's advice I took her calls, but I did so reluctantly. He'd said it was what she needed right now from me – to let her be obsessive. He'd gone through some similar things with Mom, and I appreciated the help.

Clark also felt guilty, which I didn't quite understand. It might have had something to do with the looks that passed between my mother and him while Eric was in the hospital, or the fact that he hadn't X-rayed Eric sooner, but I couldn't be sure. He'd made it his personal task to hunt down any and all kryptonite in the area. So far, the only bits he'd found were off the coast, which we'd known about since I was thirteen.

I was in the middle of rehearsal a week after Eric's hospital stay when I was passed yet another note that my wife had called again. "She said it was urgent," the assistant said as she walked away. I nodded and put the note on the piano, knowing that Kate would understand that I was in the middle of rehearsal. I'd call her as soon as we were finished.

Not five minutes later a second note was passed to me. Instead of a request to call Kate, the note said that she was waiting on the line for me to speak to her. I grumbled in frustration at her behavior. Eric was fine. I had every confidence in her as a mother. What happened was an accident that could have happened to anyone. The sooner she realized that, the better we all would be.

"Tell her I will call her as soon as I'm out of rehearsal," I said quietly to the assistant.

"She said it's an emergency."

"Everything's an emergency with her right now," I mumbled.

"Something about your father."

My head jerked up to look at the assistant. "My father?" The question wasn't just to ask what was wrong with him, but to determine which one was the cause for concern – Richard or Clark?

"She said he's sick."

That didn't help much. If Clark had found a hefty chunk of kryptonite, he could be the one for the alarm. With a look to the maestro, I was given permission to take the call.

"Hey, what's going on?" I said into the receiver.

"Jason! Where have you been?" Her panic was obvious.

"I'm in the middle of rehearsal, Kate. Now what's up because I need to get back before—"

"Your dad collapsed at work."

She'd said "dad," but I still wasn't certain. "Richard?" I clarified.

"Yes. You'd um… you'd better come down here."

"What's wrong with him?"

"Um…" She hesitated. "We're at the hospital."

"What's wrong with him, Kate?"

She gave a deep, long sigh. "You really need to come down here, Jason."

I didn't like the sound of this one bit. "Did he have a heart attack?"

"No."

"Then what?"

"Jason—" her voice cracked. "Just hurry and come down here."

Kate wasn't one to cry easily. She had cried when Eric was sick, but she'd been mad at herself more than anything. This cry was similar, but more frightening for some reason.

"I'm on my way," I said, and hung up the phone.

After a brief word with the maestro, I was on my way to the hospital. I considered that I didn't know what room he was in, and found it slightly odd that Kate hadn't offered that information. I made it to my designation in ten minutes flat and went in the front, heading for the information desk. To my total surprise, Kate was waiting for me in the lobby.

"Oh, Jason," she gasped and threw her arms around me.

It was then that I noticed my mom sitting on one of the couches with Uncle Perry next to her, his arm draped over her shoulders. Her face was a mess of tears, mascara running under her swollen eyes.

"What happened?" I said, looking down at Kate. "Where's Dad?"

Then I noticed Clark standing off to the side, looking mournful. His eyes pierced mine and then darted over to Mom. I took a few hesitant steps toward my mother, but the sinking feeling in my gut told me that something was dreadfully wrong.

"Mom?"

She looked up at me and reached out her hand. "Oh, honey." She stood up and faced me, looking me directly in the eyes. "Richard…"

My heart was racing in anticipation, and suddenly I knew. I understood. And I didn't want to hear it. "No."

Her head nodded, confirming my worst fear. "He's gone, honey."

In that instant, my whole world changed.

"How?" I said, feeling the panic begin to swell with in me.

"It was an aneurysm."

"No," I repeated, my eyes flickering over to Clark.

"Jason," Mom said, placing her hands on both sides of my face and forcing me to look at her. "There wasn't anything anyone could have done."

Her arms slid around me and I held her loosely. My limbs felt like jello. My heart was thudding rapidly against my chest. This wasn't real. It couldn't be. I'd just spoken to dad a few days ago. He was fine. He was so healthy. He worked out. He'd never really been sick. He was still young. This wasn't supposed to happen.

I felt as if things were moving in slow motion. My mother hugged me and kissed my cheek. She held my hand and didn't let go, even as the others came up to offer their sympathy. Kate held me, saying things like "I know, Jason. I know." My Uncle Perry even hugged me, something he'd rarely done since I was little. And then there was Clark.

He looked at me from a distance. My father. My _biological_ father. My _other _father. It had always been hard for me to place a qualifier on it. The one title I couldn't remember ever giving him was my _real_ father. That was Richard and it always would be. Now there was another adjective – my _only_ father. No. My only _living_ father. No matter how much I'd come to accept Clark – how I had grown to love him – he would never take Richard's place in my heart. But how was I supposed to face my father when my_ father_ had just… just…

I couldn't even think it yet. That word. My mind was still trying to process it all.

Mom still had a hold of one of my hands. Her gaze drifted from me to Clark and back again. Gently, she squeezed my hand and sniffed back some tears. "It isn't his fault," she said softly, as if she could read my thoughts. "Don't blame him for this."

I was slightly stunned by the fact that she wasn't raging out at him. Things were still tense between them, and given the situation it seemed perfectly logical to me that mom would lash out at him. I wanted to. It may have been wrong to feel that way, but it couldn't be denied. He was here… and Dad was not. It was like the universe had turned upside down. He'd never been the one to remain. Dad had always been the one. Always. From the day I was born.

I could see that he wanted to offer me the same comfort the others were offering me – that he would have hugged me if I allowed him to. Yet I couldn't. Not yet. It was too foreign of a feeling for me to accept that he was now my only living father. It was a concept that my mind rebelled against.

Every set of eyes surrounding me had tears in them – even my Uncle Perry's. My eyes, though, were dry. My brain hadn't yet caught up with my emotions. Deeper than that, I knew that if I gave into the loss I felt that it would take a long while for me to resurface. Mom needed me to be strong now. There would be arrangements to be made and papers to sign. There were things that she had to do on her own as his widow. I shuddered at the word. But I would make sure that she wouldn't be alone. I'd be there for whatever she needed. That was my job as his son.

The next few days were a blur. Making the funeral arrangements was as emotionally draining as it was physically. So much of it was distasteful to me. Did it really matter what color stain was on his casket? Or if he was dressed in the blue suit rather than the black one? I stood by Mom and gave my opinions as convincingly as I could without showing how angry or upset I was. When she asked me to play the piano for the funeral, I had to decline. I knew I wouldn't be able to make it through without breaking down, and I didn't want to lose it in front of everyone.

At the funeral, I again stood by Mom and shook the hands of an uncountable number of people offering their condolences. Dad was well liked with friends both here and abroad. The viewing lasted for hours, and the funeral home was packed to capacity for the ceremony. Kate sat next to me through the service and offered to keep Eric on her lap so I could focus better on what was being said about my Dad, but I didn't want that. I had this indescribable need to keep Eric close to me, to wrap my arms around him and make sure he knew how much I loved him. He rested his head on my shoulder and fell asleep halfway through. It pained me to think that he would never remember Richard.

The burial was the worst, though. I'd been to a few funerals before, but never had I been to a burial. I couldn't bring my eyes to look at the open grave where they would bury my father. It was too dark, too cold, too harsh of a reality for me to process. However, when I tried not to look at it, my eyes would drift skyward, up to the sun, which only served as another reminder of just how confusing this whole situation was for me.

The wake afterwards was difficult to get through, though not as difficult simply because I was distracted by everyday life issues. Eric was hungry, and getting a fifteen-month-old child to sit still long enough to eat after he's already been forced to sit still for most of the day was a chore. Then he was fussy because he wanted to play. Kate took him outside for a while, but I couldn't keep my distance from him, and soon enough I was outside pushing him on the swing set Dad had installed in the backyard a few months ago.

Dad.

It was amazing to me how many times thoughts of him came unbidden into my mind. Thoughts that had nothing to do with a funeral or the fact that I would never see him again. He was still such a part of my life that I couldn't fathom the rest of my life without him. I didn't want to.

When it was all said and done and the last person said their farewell to Mom, we were left all alone in a house that seemed far too large without Dad around. I had come inside to stand by Mom as Dad's friends were leaving. Kate was still outside with Eric. That left Mom and me to stand there alone and contemplate the emptiness that we both felt. The missing presence. The person that always seemed to hold our family together when things got rough. The voice of reason. And we would never see him again.

I hugged her, and she cried soundlessly against my shoulder. I still hadn't allowed myself to cry. I knew that if I did start I would probably never stop. Mom looked up at me with a forced smile on her tear-streaked face.

"What do we do now?" she said softly.

"I don't know," I said honestly in a hoarse whisper.

The back door opened, and Clark entered with Eric in his arms, Kate following behind them. For some reason, I thought he had left. I wasn't exactly sure why he was still here even. Shouldn't he be uncomfortable around us right now? That was typical of the kind of excuse he usually used to get out of situations like this. Yet, here he was. He froze when he saw the two of us looking back at him.

Clark smiled down at Eric and said, "Hey buddy, why don't you go to Mommy. Okay?"

"'Kay," Eric said as Clark lowered him to the ground.

"I'm going to put him down for a nap," my wife said as she took Eric's hand and led him from the room.

Mom bit her bottom lip. "Did you mean what you said earlier?" she asked Clark.

"Yes," he said, keeping his eyes on her. "Whatever you need."

She nodded and I had to wonder at what exactly they were talking about. "I think," she started, "that I need some time alone."

"Are you sure, Mom?" I asked.

"Yeah. I'm just going to lie down for a while."

"I'll take care of everything," Clark said, stepping forward. "Don't worry."

I gaped at him and how uncharacteristically bold he was acting. And then it occurred to me that what seemed so strange here was that he wasn't acting like Clark the bumbling idiot He was being himself – that combination of Clark _and_ Superman that he only showed on rare occasions when he was sure no one else would notice. I hadn't ever seen him be purely himself in front of Mom… and that seemed to make a world of difference.

"Thank you, Clark," Mom said, smiling at him. It was a small smile, but it was a smile all the same. Had hell just frozen over? She patted my arm and headed up the steps to her bedroom.

I turned my gaze on Clark, my whole mind in a jumble. "What exactly are you 'taking care of'?" I asked venomously once Mom was out of earshot.

"Cleaning up," he replied innocently.

For the first time I took in the mess of dishes in the kitchen. There were gobs of plants and flower arrangements everywhere. The furniture had been pushed to the side to make room for the visitors today. The house looked like a wild party had come through. I couldn't remember ever seeing it that out of order.

A part of me felt guilty for my previous assumption. "Do you need help?" I asked out of courtesy, for I knew he could manage in no time flat and not even break a sweat.

"No. Thank you, but I'll take care of it. Go and be with your family."

I nodded and started up the steps to my old bedroom where Kate was lying down with Eric.

"Jason—" Clark called to me.

I had a feeling I knew what he wanted to say, but I wasn't ready to hear it. "Don't," I said, not even turning around to look at him. "I can't. Not yet." I resumed my way up the steps to my family.

Eric was just dozing off, resting comfortably in the bed next to Kate. "Are you okay?" she whispered.

No. That was a stupid question. I doubted I would ever be "okay" about this. But I nodded my head yes and slumped down into a chair.

"Honey, do you want to talk?"

No. What could I say that would make a difference? No amount of talking would bring him back. I shook my head at her.

"You need to let this out. You need to vent. You haven't—"

"I need to get some air," I said, standing up quickly and walking back to the door. I really didn't have the patience to sit through a therapy session right now. I knew she understood what it was like to lose a parent, and that she could empathize with me better than anyone right now, but I really needed some space. The house had never seemed so restrictive.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"I don't know. I won't be gone long."

With my senses tuned in so that I could avoid Clark, my feet carried me down the steps and out to my car. I turned the ignition and pulled away from the house that held so many personal memories of my father. I drove, unaware of just where I was heading. I didn't care. I didn't think. I just wanted to put as much distance between me and that space that seemed so confining.

Once I was a good distance out of the city, I realized that with the landscape stretching out in front of me the car had started to feel restraining. There was so much space outside and so little in the car that had grown too small in the last few minutes. I needed out. I needed air. And so at the next rest stop I pulled over and climbed out of my car, choosing instead to wander on foot.

I started off at a brisk pace that soon became a run. A real run. The way I never allowed myself to run for fear of being spotted. I needed to feel that freedom – that rush. I needed to make my heart pound in my chest as hard as it could to remind me that I was alive and this was reality. I felt too confined to the ground and wished more than anything that I had the power to leave the ground completely.

With my heart thumping madly and my breath panting heavily, I found that whatever strength I thought I had left in me vanished completely. I wanted to cry out, to yell and scream, but all I could manage was a whimper. With a great sigh, I collapsed to the earth, gasping for air. There wasn't enough air for me to inhale. I couldn't take it in fast enough. I rolled onto my back and sucked in as much air as I could, but it wasn't enough. I couldn't breathe. Choking on what little air remained in my lungs, I coughed and wheezed my way through an episode the likes of which I hadn't had in years.

Slowly, painfully, I regained my ability to breathe. Once the air settled properly in my lungs, the mighty sob that had been building within me escaped my throat. The ache tore at my heart, ripping through my soul as my mind was bombarded with questions that I knew would never be answered.

Why? Why him? Why now? And how was I ever going to get through this?

I turned onto my stomach and buried my face in the crook of my arm. The uncontrollable tears that fell came hard and fast. I did nothing to stop them. There was no way to stop them. They burned in my eyes and stung my cheeks, but they were necessary.

When the tears had run their course and my eyes started to dry, I allowed myself to lean up and take a look at where I was lying. I had no recollection of climbing a hill, but that's exactly where I was. This was a hilltop – or rather a small mountain. The sky was dark and the stars were bright, so I knew I was quite a ways out of the city. There were trees all around me, and I could see the lights of houses and buildings in the distance below. The air was still, the only sounds coming from birds and other animals in their native habitat. Nothing was out of place. Except for the heartbeat.

"I know you're there," I called to the darkness. "You can come out now."

Clark stepped out from behind a large tree a good ways off. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I knew you wanted to be alone."

"Then why did you follow me?"

"Kate," he replied simply.

I nodded in understanding. I hadn't been exactly forthcoming in telling her where I was heading. Given how many times she had tried to get me to talk about everything over the last few days, it was no wonder she was worried about me. She had sent him to watch me and make sure I wouldn't do anything crazy.

"I just wanted some space," I explained. "I wasn't going to hurt myself, if that's what she was worried about."

"No, she just wanted to know where you were." He paused before adding. "I was worried about you, too."

I closed my eyes and lay back down on my arms. "I'll be fine," I said flatly, trying to convince Clark of something I knew wasn't true.

"I know what you're going through, Jason."

Something snapped inside me. "No, you don't," I lashed out at him.

"Yes, I do. I know what it is to lose a father."

Somewhere, it registered in my head that he actually referred to Richard as my father, something he'd never really done. He'd always said Richard was "like" a father. Yet, I didn't have time to focus on that. I was more concerned about something else entirely.

"Having your father die on another planet when you're a baby isn't the same as this. You didn't grow up with him. He didn't raise you," I snarled. "So don't even dare compare Dad to Jor-El."

"I wasn't," he said calmly. "I had another father – an adoptive father – a father who raised me and loved me and meant the world to me."

I sniffed, a little surprised that I'd forgotten all about Jonathan Kent.

He walked forward, closing the distance between us until he was next to me. Without asking permission, he sat down on the cool ground beside me. "My dad died when I was eighteen, Jason. It was a heart attack. One minute I was talking to him about school and joking around and the next minute…" His voice trailed off sadly. "He died right there in front of me. Even with all the amazing powers I had, there wasn't anything I could do to save his life."

I swallowed hard and pursed my lip together. That was exactly what I was feeling right now. I hadn't even considered that he might have some idea what this helplessness felt like. But what he didn't understand was the confusion of trying to face one father when you've just lost another.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you," I said, "but this is… I mean I never thought…"

"You have every right to be angry, Jason. I just don't want you to feel alone."

I glanced up at him, a flash of hostility rising inside me. "Well, sorry, but that's exactly how I feel. He was my dad." I could no longer hold his gaze, and so I pulled my eyes away from his. "He always knew exactly what to say. He never made me feel…"

I heard Clark sigh and knew I had made my point without even having to say the actual words. Dad had always loved me. I'd never doubted that. He'd always tried to help me work though problems. He was always there when I needed him. And Clark wasn't.

"I'm not here to take Richard's place," he stated. "That was never my intention."

I huffed in bold disagreement.

"Jason," he said in a voice that demanded I look at him. "I never stopped him from being your father. I never took you away from him. He was your family right from the start, and I wasn't. I fully acknowledge that Richard raised you – that you think of him as your father and that I'm just…" He breathed deeply.

I rolled my eyes and rested my head down on my arms again. "This is so confusing. I've spent the majority of my life worried about the wrong father."

I felt him shift slightly. "What do you mean?"

I tutted. "I've always been worried about _you_. Worried about how to talk to you, how to be around you, how to please you, all so that you won't… leave me… again." I hated admitting it out loud like that, but I'd lost all ability to think rationally. There was little time to filter out my thoughts before I spoke them. "I fought for you… when I should have been more focused on him."

The silence that filled the space between us was thick and tense.

"I can't even remember the last time I told him I loved him," I said softly.

"Oh, Jason, he knew," Clark said. "He knew."

I shrugged. "I find it ironic that he thought of himself as my 'other' father and that you were my 'real' father… when you are sitting here telling me that you feel _you_ are the 'other' father." I sat up. "I just feel like I'm going around in circles sometimes."

Clark nodded. "I have felt that way on so many occasions. I think that's just part of life."

"Is that your fatherly advice?" I mocked.

His eyes caught mine. "What do you want from me, Jason? Talk about going around in circles, you've repeatedly told me that you want me in your life, and yet you still keep me at a distance. Do you want me to be your father, or not? Because this is the only way I know how to do it." There was a boldness to his voice that was new, and it caught me off guard. "I'm not Richard. I wasn't there from day one earning your trust. I have to do it the hard way now, and so far I think I've done everything that you've asked of me. I know you're confused, but I want to be here. I am willing to help in any way possible, you just have to tell me."

He was right. He had done what I'd asked of him, and I owed it to him to at least acknowledge that fact. "I didn't mean to make you think you had done something wrong," I explained. "You've been great. What's confusing me right now is that I just don't know where to go from here. As crazy as this may sound, Dad made things work around here."

"Do you mean, you're having difficulty defining our relationship now that Richard isn't here to act as a buffer?" he asked.

"Yes," I hissed, surprised that he really did seem to understand.

"I can accept that," he nodded his head. "But I'm not going to take myself out of the picture just because you aren't sure where I fit."

"I don't want you out of the picture. I just want…" I couldn't word it.

"You want Richard back."

I nodded silently.

"I hope you know that if I could have done anything, I would have."

I sniffed. "I know."

"I do love you, Jason. No one expects this to be easy for you. But there are so many people in your life that can help you get through this. Your mother – Kate – me…and Eric needs you."

"Kate!" I turned my head quickly upon hearing her name. "Was she really angry at me? I kind of just ran out."

"Kate was worried about you. Remember, she lost her mother unexpectedly. She knows what you're feeling. And you're her husband – and you're in pain. She wants to help you, that's all."

He was right, again. Why was he suddenly so perceptive and in tune with everything?

"I guess I should head back, then." I rose to my feet and brushed off the dirt from my legs. "I didn't mean to cause such a fuss."

"It's no fuss."

I sighed and looked around again. First to my left and then to the right. "Where are we, anyway?"

Clark smirked. "Upstate New York."

"You're kidding!" I was stunned.

"You ran for a long time."

"I guess so."

"You want a lift back to your car?" he offered.

"No, I'll make it back on my own. I need some time." I smiled reassuringly at him, trying to show him that I would be fine. It would hurt, and I knew that the pain would never go away completely, but I also knew that I would get though it. It must have worked because, after a hug, he left me on my own.

It took a while, but I eventually made it back to the house. A quick scan of the bedrooms told me that Mom was asleep in a chair, Kate was pacing the floor, and Eric was playing quietly in his portable crib. My feet made their way up the stairs to Mom's room. Carefully, I picked her up and laid her in her bed, pulling the cover up around her. Then I crossed the hall to my old room where Kate and Eric were.

"Daddy!" Eric chimed happily as I walked in.

"Jason," Kate sighed in relief.

I scooped up my son, wrapped my arms around Kate, and kissed them both.


	32. Age 26 Part One: Inferno

_AN: Blame vanel for this one folks! LOL! He gave me the idea and requested the cliff hanger at the end, so it's all his fault! No… I'm kidding. But he did give me some tips along the way. Also, thanks to htbthomas, who was confused by the beginning of this but kept reading all the same. And to Hellish for being my biggest fan. You all rox! I seriously have the best beta team around._

_And just as an FYI – if you love Supes and aren't in on the 12days of Clois live journal fic share, you really should check it out. Fics start being posted soon and you don't want to miss out on any of the holiday fun!_

**Age 26 Part One - Inferno**

Rehearsals for the Christmas program the symphony gave every year began in September. The first performance of the extravaganza was generally given the day after Thanksgiving. Since the show was the largest they gave every year and involved every kind of performer, their dog, and the kitchen sink, they would never be able to have it up and running in time if they waited much longer. "A Metropolis Symphony Christmas" was one of the hottest tickets in town and played almost every night, with some matinee performances generally given for audiences of school children and other youth organizations.

This was to be my second year performing in the Christmas program. I had twice as many performances this year as I did previously, which was a blessing and a burden at the same time. It meant more money and recognition with the community, but it also meant more time away from my family. At two and a half years old, Eric would actually understand who Santa was this year. I didn't want to miss out on any of his important childhood moments, but I couldn't turn down the opportunity to perform. Kate agreed with me, with the understanding that we would plan all of our own family events around my unusual schedule.

The choir, made up of eighty of the best voices Metropolis had to offer, was scheduled to rehearse on their own for a few weeks, and then the musicians would be added in later. Still, an accompanist was always necessary, and since every pianist has their own quirks and needs time working with the choir, the three of us that would be playing during the holiday season took turns accompanying the choir from week to week. This week was my week. Plunking out notes for singers wasn't exactly my favorite thing to do, but they were talented enough that I knew they wouldn't be practicing parts for long.

After the first hour of rehearsal, the chorus master called for a break. I wasn't in any need for coffee, so I stayed and played through a few small sections that I tended to fumble over. The arrangement for "Jingle Bells" in particular this year was much more complicated than I had anticipated.

"'Jingle Bells', of all things," I grumbled.

The chorus master chucked at me. "I bet you never thought that such a simple song would give you that many headaches."

I nodded. "You got that right. And here I though Handel was going to be bad."

"Are you still prone to headaches?"

The voice that asked the question did not belong to the chorus master. It was female… light and musical… and oh-so-familiar. I turned around to find a pair of deep brown eyes staring back at me from a smiling face framed by curly, auburn-colored hair. She hardly looked any different from the last time I saw her when I was seventeen.

"Meredith?" I gaped.

Her smile widened. "You remember me."

I stood up, shaking my head in disbelief. "Of course I remember you!" I opened my arms to welcome her into a friendly hug. "Why wouldn't I remember you?"

She shrugged. "Maybe because it's been about ten years since we last saw each other."

I smiled. "Still, what kind of a jerk would I be if I forgot my first girlfriend?"

"A big one," she chuckled. "In fact, didn't I call you a jerk when we broke up?"

"Not to my face," I admitted, "but I deserved it, all the same. I'm surprised you are even being nice to me now."

She tutted at me. "Oh come on, that was about the most tame break-up I have ever experienced. You should have seen the war I raged with my college boyfriend."

I nodded and folded my arms in front of me. "So, what are you doing here?"

"I'm one of the sopranos in the chorus," she said in a way that made me feel badly for not having at least looked at the list of names when I was given the list of performers.

"Wow," I said stupidly. "That's – that's great!"

"Sort of," she sighed. "I'd rather be one of the featured vocalists, but this will at least pay my bills over Christmas."

The chorus master tapped his baton on the music stand in front of him as the choir members began returning to their seats.

"Guess that means the break is over," she said, looking over to where her seat was. "I should get going."

"Wait," I stopped her. "What are you doing for lunch?"

She blinked.

"We could go get lunch together and catch up. I'd love to hear about your career."

"Yeah?" she hesitated. "There's not much to tell. Not compared to yours."

"Oh, please," I groaned. "Just have lunch with me. My treat. I haven't seen anyone from high school since my wedding, and even then it was just Marcus and a few others I keep in contact with."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

With a nod and a smile, she agreed. "Okay, but I pay my own way. My fiancé won't take kindly to my old boyfriend buying me lunch."

I chuckled and regained my seat behind the piano. Through the remainder of the rehearsal I found myself to be surprisingly calm. I looked up every so often to catch Meredith's eye and simply smile at her, but it was always a calm smile. The once nervous energy that had always consumed me whenever I was in her presence was gone, as was the knot of teenage desire that had once upon a time twisted in my gut. She was just Meredith – another friend that I hadn't seen in years. And I couldn't wait to catch up with all her news.

When the lunch break came, she suggested we go to her favorite café that was within walking distance. I had eaten there once or twice, so I didn't mind. But as we stepped out of the building, a cold gale of wind wailed around us, chilling the air in an unseasonable fashion.

Meredith wrapped her lightweight jacket tightly around her. "Oh my goodness, it's cold! I didn't know it was going to be so cold today."

"Take this," I said, chivalrously tugging my own scarf off from around my neck and twisting it around hers. "At least you can keep your vocal chords warm."

She smiled. "I'm not so sure about the rest of me though!"

Casually, I draped an arm over her shoulder. "Here, we'll make a run for it."

A few chilly moments later, we bounded into the café laughing. "Remind me never to try to run a three-legged race with you," Meredith teased.

"Are you saying you aren't impressed with my athletic ability?" I said in mock horror.

"I was _never_ impressed by your athletic ability! You think I go after guys because of sports?" She gaped at me. "Hello! Music major! Not interested in sports."

I couldn't help but laugh at her. "God, I've missed you. You were always fun."

She nudged my arm with her elbow. "So were you."

We ordered our food, or rather I ordered food while Meredith ordered a plate of greens that probably wouldn't satisfy a small rabbit, and found a table at the back of the café where we could talk. My meal was nearly gone when I noticed that Meredith had barely eaten half of her small portion.

"Do you want a roll to go with that? Or something of actual substance?" I teased.

With a smile, she shook her head. "You have no idea how tough this business and this town is on women. With the holidays coming up, I can not afford to eat a roll or anything of substance."

I leaned back. "You're kidding me, right? You're gorgeous."

"Thanks," she beamed, "but unfortunately you aren't a casting director."

Slightly confused I asked, "What do you need a casting director for? I thought you were in the choir."

"This is my first year in the choir. I've spent the last few years hopping from chorus to small chorus barely scratching out a living. I work at a school part time as a substitute to fill in the financial gaps. I refuse to wait tables, and as a sub, I don't have to meet a set schedule. If I don't want to work, then I don't have to."

I frowned. "You looked like you were doing so well. I just assumed…"

"Well, it's hard to complain about the not so good things when another part of my life is so hopelessly wonderful," she shrugged.

"And what part is that?"

"My fiancé." Her face went bright pink. "I'm completely in love with Allen."

"What does he do?"

"He's a doctor."

I gasped. "You're joking?"

"No. Why?"

"My wife is studying to be a doctor."

Brows raised, she said, "Really? Family practice?"

"No, um…" I chuckled. "Psychology."

Meredith snorted. "You're married to a shrink?"

"No," I slurred. "She wants to be a psychologist and help families in trouble."

Still slightly laughing, Meredith said, "Jason White – the guy I could never seem to understand what was going on inside his brain – is married to a headshrinker."

"Now that's not fair," I smiled. "I never knew what was going on in your head either."

"Oh, let's think for a minute. What could possibly be going on in the brain of a sixteen-year-old girl when she's kissing her very sexy boyfriend?"

I blushed and covered my face in embarrassment. "Probably the same things I was thinking."

"Like… let's break up?" she said suddenly.

I looked over at her in total surprise.

"I never understood what happened there," she admitted. "One minute things were great and the next… they weren't."

I wasn't sure how to respond. I couldn't explain to her now any better than I could then that the problem wasn't her at all. The problem was me and the fear I had of my own powers. Without being able to explain the full truth to her, all I could offer her was something only partially true. "It just wasn't right," I said after a long moment.

"I can agree with that," she nodded. "That doesn't mean that I understood it though. Nor does it mean that I regret it, because I am very happy where I ended up romantically. I assume you are, too."

"Very happy," I said without the slightest hesitation. "Kate is – Kate makes me–" I sighed deeply, trying to find the right words to describe what I felt for Kate and how far we'd come over the years. "Kate accepts everything – the good and the bad. She makes me want to be a better person. Sometimes I still can't believe that she chose me."

Meredith smiled affectionately at me. "How long have you been married?"

"Four years," I said.

Her eyes went wide. "Really? Wow."

My grin widened. "And we have a son."

Now her jaw dropped. "No!"

I pulled out my wallet and passed her a picture of my pride and joy. "This is Eric."

"Oh my gosh!" she gasped in the same girly way that she did back in high school. "He is adorable. He looks just like you!"

"Yeah, I get that a lot."

"How old is he?"

"Two and a half."

"Wow, Jason. You guys moved fast," she said, passing the photo back to me.

"Now, why do people say that?" I mused, taking a moment to look at the picture of my beautiful son. "Kate and I have known each other since we were nineteen. We dated for a year before I proposed, and we didn't get married for another few years. Eric didn't come along until after our second anniversary. I don't see how any of that is fast."

"Because in today's world, a lot of people wait until they are in their thirties to get married and start a family."

"But when it's right, what's the point in waiting?"

She smiled at me and placed her elbows on the table, resting her chin in her hands. "Okay, I can't resist. I have to ask you something."

"What?" I said hesitantly.

Her chuckle did little to ease my nerves. "I always wondered about this, and I wanted to ask you all those years ago, but I was too young and stupid and embarrassed to do it."

"Why am I suddenly worried?"

Leaning in slightly, Meredith fixed her eyes on mine. "Did you sleep with Tiffani Kaye?"

"What?" It took me a second to consider what she was talking about, but once it registered I nearly came out of my seat. "No! NO! _No!_ No, no, no. Noooooo!" Just in case she didn't catch my sincerity, I shook my head and sliced my hand through the air as I hung on to the last no.

"You didn't?" she squinted at me. "Because everyone said you did."

"Well, I didn't. Believe me, I didn't. She offered, but I told her no thanks."

"Really?" Meredith smirked.

"Oh, come on, Mer. Tiffani Kaye? She was…" I could have finished the sentence with so many unpleasant adjectives.

"Skanky?" Meredith offered.

"Yes. She was nasty. I wouldn't sleep with her." I frowned. "I'm a little offended that you thought I did."

She shrugged. "I didn't know what to believe. I tried to stand up for you, but it was difficult, given the circumstances. I mean with you… and me… I was more than a little confused."

"Meredith, honestly," I wet my lips, "other than my wife, you're the only girl I ever felt that way about."

She looked like she was trying not to smile too brightly. "All right, now I feel much better."

"You do?"

She hummed. "Yup, because you're the only guy I ever really felt that way about… until I met Allen. In fact, I sometimes compared boyfriends with you. I know that sounds silly, but I did."

"I'm flattered," I blushed.

"Did you ever think about me?" she asked, and then quickly swatted at the air. "You fell in love with your wife not long after me, so forget I asked."

"I did think about you," I admitted to her anyway. "But I'm one hundred percent in love with my wife."

"I wouldn't expect anything less from you," she said warmly.

I waited a beat and then said, "Even though you thought I slept with Tiffani Kaye."

She groaned and covered her face with her hands. "Are you going to hold that against me forever?"

"Maybe just for the next week or so."

Realizing time was short, we cleaned up our table and dashed back to rehearsal through the cold. It had been a nice conversation with the appropriate amount of uncomfortable and awkward moments, but I didn't regret it. I felt so at peace with everything. I hadn't realized it before, but the Meredith book hadn't been really fully closed. Now I could honestly say that it was and I had no issues with it.

More than that, my ease at talking to her only validated for me the fact that it wouldn't have really lasted much longer between us had we not broken up when we did. I had never been able to reach a comfort zone when I dated Meredith where I could completely relax around her. There was always an edge to things. The comfort I found with Kate had been missing with Meredith. Now that I wasn't trying to impress her or romance her in any way, I felt so much more comfortable about Meredith. I was pretty certain that our remaining rehearsal time together, as well as performances, would be smooth sailing, and that our friendship would grow.

I headed home that evening with full intention of telling Kate about my day and the run-in I had with Meredith. I hadn't ever spent a great deal of time giving Kate the details on my history with Meredith. I couldn't recall ever having told her Meredith's name even. Kate knew I had dated a girl, but that was about it. Considering that nothing very important had ever happened between Meredith and me, I never felt it necessary to explain to Kate all about her. In fact, Kate and I never really spent much time talking about our past relationships. For me, there wasn't much to tell, and for her it was painful and only made my blood boil. Thus, we generally avoided the subject. Still, I figured I'd have to at least explain a few things for Kate to fully appreciate the realization I had come to regarding both her and Meredith.

I hadn't been in the house five minutes when I knew something was very wrong. I'd done my normal routine of kissing both Eric and Kate, yet Kate stiffened when I drew her close to me.

"What's wrong?" I asked, concerned.

"Nothing," came her sharp reply. "I made pasta for dinner. Eric and I have already eaten. What's left is in the kitchen. I have my class in a half hour, and I need to finish reading my chapter before then. So, I'll see you later." Without even so much as a smile, she brushed past me and headed for her computer.

I didn't dare interrupt her while she was in the middle of her correspondence course, so I played with Eric and then put him to bed. Kate took a moment to give him a kiss before he ran off to his room, but once again, there was no smile for me. I used the time alone to work on some musical notation and caught the last quarter of a football game, all the while pondering just what had Kate so upset.

When I heard her laptop click shut, I expected her to join me on the sofa for a chat, but instead she headed directly into the bedroom and closed the door. Now I was getting a bit mad. If I'd done something wrong I at least deserved to know what it was I had done. It wasn't like Kate at all to just brush me off and not at least give me some reason for her attitude. With a hard frown set in place on my face, I snapped off the television and stomped my way into the bedroom. She merely scowled at me and continued washing her face in the bathroom sink.

Forcefully, I asked, "All right. What's going on? What are you so pissed off about?"

Slowly, her eyes met mine. "You really don't know?"

"No! I don't know! I come home tonight and all I get is the cold shoulder. I'd like an explanation."

Flicking her washcloth against the sink with a snap, she gave me a cool look and articulately said, "Meredith called for you."

Confusion flooded my head. "What?" Why would Meredith call here? And why would that upset Kate?

"She still has your scarf and wanted to let you know that she'll return it to you tomorrow." Kate paused dramatically, eyeing me with a venomous look. "She wanted to thank you for keeping her warm."

Now I understood. My eyes closed slowly. "Oh. I see. That makes it sound like I was doing something inappropriate when all I did was lend one of the singers a scarf because it was cold outside."

Kate popped a hip, her face turning red in anger. "Really? That was _all_? You didn't wrap your arms around her and flirt with her and take her to lunch? Because I think that's a bit more than just lending someone your scarf."

My brows pulled together in puzzlement. "How do you know that?"

Sadness covered Kate's face in a flash. "Because I saw you. Eric and I came to surprise you for lunch today, and I saw you laughing and flirting with some beautiful red-headed woman."

Now I was really angry. "You were spying on me?"

"I didn't know I had a reason to spy."

"There isn't a reason. It was nothing."

"It wasn't nothing," she bit out harshly. "You went on a date."

"I did not!" I fought back. "I went out to lunch with a friend."

Kate scoffed. "Yes, you two seemed very friendly."

"Oh, come on, Kate. You can't actually believe I'm dating Meredith."

"You both looked awfully comfortable with each other," she accused.

"That's because we're old friends."

"How do you know her, then?"

"From high school. She was my—" The explanation got stuck in my throat. If Kate was this upset over just seeing me with Meredith, she would be even angrier once she knew who Meredith really was.

"She was your what?"

I pursed my lips, knowing there was no way around it. "She was my girlfriend for a while."

Kate's mouth fell open. "Your… girlfriend?" She blinked and chuckled harshly. "That explains why you two looked so comfortable together."

I couldn't believe this. Being misunderstood is one thing, but the fact that Kate genuinely believed I had cheated on her was unfathomable. "It was lunch, Kate. Just lunch! I can't even understand how you could think I would do such a thing as what you are accusing me of! It's ridiculous!" I said bitterly.

"I know what I saw."

"What you saw was me with a – a—" I was so angry now I couldn't think straight.

"With your arms around an old girlfriend. _Flirting_."

"I wasn't flirting!" I shouted back.

"Well, you sure fooled me!"

That was it. I had had enough. Hot anger was quickly building up inside of me, begging to be released .. "All right, Kate. You caught me!" I mocked. "You found out my big secret. I'm having sex with the redhead in the choir."

Kate gasped. "She's in the choir?"

"Of course she is. How else would she get my number than from a contact list?"

"I figured you slipped it to her over your cozy little lunch."

"Kate," I fumed. "Stop being so stupid."

But Kate didn't seem to hear me. "So you're going to see her every day then? For the rest of the season?" Tears were welling up in her eyes.

I shook my head at her in disbelief. "Kate, this isn't at all what you think it is. The fact that you even think this…"

Ignoring me, she brushed past me to stand by the window with her back to me. "I can't believe this. I can not believe this."

"_You_ can't believe it? What about me? I have done nothing wrong here."

She snapped around in a fury. "You didn't tell me about her. You _never_ told me about her!"

"Yes, I did," I countered, just as angrily. "I told you I had a girlfriend in the past. You knew you weren't my first girlfriend."

"But you never told me her name. You never told me she was a singer or that she was going to perform with you. Why couldn't you tell me about her? Why did you keep her a secret?"

Now she was pushing it too far. "She wasn't a secret! I didn't tell you because I didn't think it was important. I didn't know until today that she would be in the Christmas show this year. That's why we had lunch today – to catch up."

"Then why didn't you tell me when you came home?"

"Because you were upset and giving me the cold shoulder. I didn't want to waltz in and just blurt out that I'd had lunch with an old girlfriend for fear that you would overreact, just like you are doing, and take it the wrong way!"

"Exactly!" she raged, pointing a finger at me. "If there wasn't anything going on with you two then there wouldn't be any reason for me to take it the wrong way! But you knew I would get angry so you opted not to tell me – to keep it a secret."

I rolled my eyes in complete frustration. "Oh, this is bullshit, Kate."

"You wouldn't keep something like this a secret if you didn't think there was anything wrong. You must have felt guilty for something or you would have told me."

"I didn't feel guilty about anything!" I bellowed at her. "I thought you were having a bad day and that it wasn't the best time to mention an old girlfriend."

She hummed. "Right, because you had a nice, flirty lunch with her."

"Do not accuse me of flirting with her again, Kate!" I warned, feeling my face grow hot with my anger. "I did nothing wrong! Do you understand me?" In a desperate cry of frustration, I looked up at the ceiling and raged, "I did nothing wrong!"

Suddenly, without any warning whatsoever, the ceiling was engulfed in flames. I blinked, not quite understanding what I was seeing. Kate screamed my name, the sound of which pierced my heart like nothing I'd ever heard before. And then I realized what had happened – how the fire had started. It had been me. I had done it. In my rage, I had lost control and hadn't taken notice of the familiar heat behind my eyes.

Beside me, Kate wailed in terror. "JASON! DO SOMETHING!"

Instinct kicked in, and taking two steps back, I focused on the fire now spreading across the ceiling and inhaled sharply. When I exhaled, nothing but cool air rushed out of me, hitting the flames and instantly halting their progress. I wasn't sure how I was doing it, for I'd never done anything like that before, but somehow the air I expelled was ice cold. It must have been pure willpower that allowed me to manage to stop the fire. A mere thirty seconds later, the fire was completely out.

I stood still for a good long while, appalled and amazed at the same time. The room was silent except for Kate's sharp and panicked breathing. Turning to look at her, I wasn't surprised to find her terrified face white as a ghost. Her eyes, which held fast to mine, were filled with tears as well as pain. Slowly, as if she had lost all strength, she slid to the floor and covered her mouth to stop herself from screaming.

I was mortified at what I had done. I had unnecessarily brought my wife face-to-face with the one thing she feared the most in the whole world. More than that, I had put her life in danger. I had placed Eric in danger as well. What kind of a monster gets in an argument and ends up nearly killing his wife and child with fire bursting out of his eyes? Me. I did that. I was capable of that. No matter how many times I had sworn to never hurt her, I had just broken that vow in one fell swoop.

The argument was forgotten. I couldn't even remember what it was that we fought about. All I could focus on in that moment was the fact that I had lost control. My inability to control my powers had nearly cost me my family. It had been a mistake, yes, but one that was easily avoided… by my absence.

"I'm sorry," I muttered, looking down at Kate. "I'm so sorry."

Before she could respond, I turned and walked out of the bedroom. She called my name, but I didn't stop. I just kept walking through the house. Even with Kate's repeated cries for me to come back, I knew I couldn't. I didn't dare for fear that I would repeat the experience and cause more damage. I kept walking until I was out of the house with the door shut behind me. I kept walking until I knew I was a safe distance away from the house – away from the people I loved – away from anyone who might get hurt.

And then I ran.


	33. Age 26 part two: Lessons

_AN: Believe it or not, I hadn't originally planned this whole section to be in the fic. Now that I've written it, I can't imagine the story without it. Vanel helped me brainstorm this section when I realized I had nothing for age 26, and here it ended up being a two parter! I hope everyone likes it as much as I do!_

_Lots of thanks to the beta readers who fixed my story in spite of it being the holidays. Htbthomas did it on Chirstmas Eve if you can believe it! Mithah sent it back yesterday, and if I hadn't been so sick, I would have posted it then. And vanel well… this section wouldn't be here without you!_

**Age 26 Part Two – Lessons**

Normally when I enter the apartment building that stands at 344 Clinton Street, I take a moment to chat casually with the security guard. So it was no surprise that Frank greeted me with a bright smile and immediately started in on catching up on the small talk.

"Hello, Jason!" he said in his friendly and personable way. "Haven't seen you in a while. How are Kate and Eric?" His smile faded suddenly when I groaned. He took in the state of my appearance. "Are you all right?"

I had no idea what I really looked like at the moment, but I knew from his expression that it couldn't have been good. "I'm fine," I muttered. "Is he in?"

Frank automatically knew who I meant without needing to ask. There was only one person I visited here. His eyes flickered up to the ceiling and then back to me. "He should be. It's been a quiet evening."

I'd never actually asked Frank if he knew the truth about Clark Kent, but after all the years of hints that he had dropped, I'd come to assume that the overly observant man did know. Which also meant that he probably knew about me, too.

"Would you like me to ring him and see if he's there?"

"No. It's okay. I'll just head up there and wait for him if he isn't there."

"Are you sure? You don't look so good," he frowned.

"I don't feel so good," I said as I headed to the elevator and stepped inside.

Although it was only a few floors, the ride up felt as if it lasted hours. Or maybe it didn't last long enough. I was eager to talk to Clark about what had happened, but at the same time I was embarrassed by it. I felt like a child not wanting to admit that I'd done something terribly wrong, but knowing that if I didn't fess up my parent would find out about it sooner or later. My stomach churned at the prospect of facing him.

It had been years since I'd asked for his advice about my powers. It had been years since I'd asked for his advice on anything really. He had offered advice many times when I hadn't asked for it, but that was different. I couldn't really remember the last time I'd gone to him with the select purpose of talking to him because he was the only person who could help me. Because he was my father. He was the only one I had now that Dad was gone. Even still, I doubted I would have asked Dad about this. Heat vision was something only Clark could deal with or understand, so it had to be him.

The elevator arrived at his floor, and I walked down the narrow hall to stand in front of his door. My heart was racing, both from the events of the evening and from the anticipation of having to admit this horrible thing to him. My hands were shaking, as were my legs. In fact, my whole body twitched with nervous energy. Too afraid to us any of my powers, I breathed deeply and let my fist rap on the door in the hopes that Clark was at home.

He was. The door flew open to reveal his perplexed face. "Jason. What's wrong?"

"Can I come in?" I asked.

"Yes. Of course," he said, eyeing me in worry and opening the door so I could brush past. "Are you all right?"

"No," I answered honestly. Feeling my legs begin to shake, I sank down onto the sofa and covered my face with my hands. "I did… something… terrible." He wordlessly waited for me to continue. "My heat vision," I mumbled after several quick breaths. "I can't control it. I've never been able to control it. The first time it happened, it just spilled out of me, and since then I've felt it before it happens. I usually feel it behind my eyes, and so I know to close my eyes so it won't happen. But this time I didn't feel it. I got angry and the next thing I knew there were flames everywhere."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Clark said, sitting on the coffee table directly in front of me and resting a hand on my knee. "Slow down. What do you mean there were flames everywhere? Where were the flames?"

I wet my lips, so embarrassed to admit to him what I'd done but knowing I didn't have any other choice. "In the bedroom. At home"

His face paled. "Kate? Eric?"

"They're fine," I said, and then quickly edited the comment. "They aren't physically hurt at least. No one was really hurt, but fire… fire is Kate's biggest fear and I – I – oh god! I was so angry!" I covered my face with my hands again.

"Calm down, Jason," Clark said in a surprisingly steady voice. "Just calm down. Tell me everything from the beginning."

I sighed and met his eyes. I could see the genuine concern on his face and hoped he wouldn't judge me too harshly for my inability to control what came so naturally to him. "Do you remember Meredith Madison?" I asked.

Puzzlement flashed over his face. "Who?"

"My girlfriend in high school."

"Oh," he registered. "Red hair?"

"Yeah," I confirmed. "Well, she's singing in the choir for the Christmas show this year and I went out to lunch with her. Kate saw us and started accusing me of having an affair with her."

"What?" Clark said, startled.

"Nothing happened!" I insisted. "But Kate wouldn't believe me. I was so angry that she would think that. I would never – NEVER do that, but Kate just kept going with it until I lost it. And then… the ceiling was in flames and Kate was screaming and—"

"Jason, stop," he ordered gently. "I get the idea."

"I didn't know what to do – where to go. I couldn't stay there, and I can't go back – not until I know how to control it. I don't trust myself. You've got to help me," I begged. "You've got to show me how to stop it so I don't ever do this again. I can't – I can't!"

"Of course I will try to help you," Clark said in that same calm, steady voice. "But you have to calm down first. Why wouldn't I help you?"

I wet my lips, still shaking and jittery from the events of the day as well as the usual fear that always came over me when I had to own up to the fact that I was unable to control the powers I had inherited from my father. I hated admitting as much to him, and I hated that I had to beg him to help me, but I didn't have much of a choice. "I feel like such a failure," I murmured, keeping my eyes downcast. "I don't want you to think I'm incapable…"

"I don't think that," he stated. "I've never thought that. Asking for help doesn't make you weak; it makes you strong. Heat vision was one of the powers I had difficulty controlling, so why should it be any different for you?"

My head snapped up. "It was?"

"Sure," he smiled. "Do you think I just woke up one day and could do everything perfectly without ever having to learn how to do it first? I was taught, Jason. When I first used my heat vision, I would torch everything in sight. It wasn't so much that I couldn't make it happen or stop it from happening, but rather that I couldn't aim very well. It took a long time for me to pinpoint a single spot and not burn everything around it. There are times, even now, that I get a little nervous when using it if I'm distracted or can't focus well enough."

"Yeah?" I said, surprised that he felt nervous or had his own difficulties with his powers. "I'd always assumed that everything came easy to you."

His smile broadened. "I wasn't raised as a Kryptonian, Jason. I was raised by humans who didn't know any better than I did what was going to happen next. I've heard you say that you feel like a freak. Well, how do you think I felt when I couldn't figure out how to keep my feet _on_ the ground and stop myself from flying? I had no idea how I was doing it, so I had no idea how to stop it. It's the same thing here, isn't it?"

I'd never considered that, and it made me feel infinitely better to know that these strange powers had been difficult for him once upon a time. "Why did you never tell me that?"

"You don't generally like talking about your powers. But I've always hoped that you'd come to me someday and ask me for help. I'm just sorry it had to happen like this."

"You and me both," I said. "So… you'll help me?"

"Absolutely, but we have to do this some place safe where you won't cause a lot of damage."

I shook my head. "And where would that be? A firing range?"

"I was thinking of somewhere more… arctic."

It took me all of two seconds to register his meaning. "No!" I said, standing up and pointing a finger at him. "I don't want to go there."

"Jason," he said gently, following my lead and standing up. "You can't do any damage up there. Where do you think I learned how to do what I can do?"

"But that place…"

"It's the only place where you can use your powers and not burn everything down. The Fortress is virtually indestructible."

I considered it a moment. "I don't have any fond memories of that place."

"I know, and for that I am truly sorry."

"I don't feel very welcome there – like an outsider trying to fit in."

"You're not an outsider," he stressed. "Please, trust me this once."

Reluctantly, I agreed with a small nod of my head. I didn't feel good about going there at all, but I knew he was right about it being a safe place to use my powers. Throughout the entire journey there, the nervous knot in my stomach grew and grew. By the time the temperature dropped significantly and the ground below was all white as far as the eye could see, my heart was racing in my chest. Then, on the horizon, I saw the spires of crystal and ice jutting up out of the snow.

My feet gently touched the ground a few moments later. He released me and gave me a concerned look. "Are you okay?"

I nodded and lied. "I'm fine." I caught sight of the power console and was suddenly chilled by the memory of what I had heard the last time I had been here.

"Are you cold?" he asked, noticing the slight shiver.

"No, just a little freaked out, I guess," I admitted honestly.

He sighed. "I wish you felt more comfortable here."

"It's not a very friendly place, you know." I glanced around at the palace that I had once thought was so impressive and only felt the emptiness. "Maybe if there was some color… or furniture."

Clark smiled. "I have some furniture, but I keep it stored away. It's really not necessary for just me. This isn't where I live, Jason. It's where I learn." Nice line.

"Right," I groaned, thinking about what I had learned here all those years ago.

"I had always hoped that you would want to learn here, too."

"Yeah, that didn't go over very well last time, did it?"

"No, it didn't," he agreed. "But I intend to make it up to you."

"How?"

"By helping you today. That's what we came here for, right?"

"Right."

"So, first things first." He clapped his hands together, causing an echo throughout the open fortress. "We need to figure out what triggers your heat vision."

"It happens when I get mad," I said quickly.

He squinted at me. "Not every time you get mad, though."

"Okay, when I'm really, _really_ mad."

"Jason," he sighed, and then stood quietly and thought.

After several minutes I offered an idea. "You could just turn on Jor-El. That would piss me off real fast."

He gave me a pointed look.

"Seriously, if you want me to get really mad, just turn on the big, floating, know-it-all head. I promise you, I'll be angry in no time."

"That won't solve anything, though."

"It might trigger my heat vision, which is why we came here. And it would be the first really useful thing that Jor-El ever did for me."

Clark sighed heavily and shook his head. I could almost hear his thoughts, they were so plainly written on his face. He wasn't going to use his father as a means of making me angry. He probably still held out some hope that I would come to accept Jor-El instead of hate him as I did.

"When was the first time it happened?" he asked at long last.

I exhaled and slumped to sit down on one of the ledges. "Ironically, the first time was when Meredith and I broke up."

His frown deepened. "How old were you?"

I shrugged. "Sixteen. I burnt down the kitchen." From the look on his face I could tell this was news to him. "Didn't Mom tell you about it?"

"No. I knew there had been a fire, but she told me she left something cooking on the stove and fell asleep at her computer." He looked a bit hurt. "Why didn't she tell me that was you?"

"Because I asked her not to. I didn't want you to be disappointed with me again."

His shoulders slumped. "It's always going to come back to that, isn't it?"

We looked at each other for a long moment before he inhaled and stood up straight. "All right, so your heat vision was triggered because you got angry that she broke up with you."

"Sort of. I kind of… did it to myself."

"How so?"

"I said some really horrible things and… pushed her away until she broke up with me. But it was really all my fault."

"So you were angry at yourself?"

"I guess," I said, but in my mind I knew it was more than that. What I didn't want to tell him was my reason for pushing Meredith away. I really didn't want to get into a discussion about intimacy with him, nor did I want to go back to the topic of how much I didn't want to be Kryptonian. I'd sort of overcome that hurdle in the last few years and didn't think it wise to reopen an old wound.

"Did it ever happen again?" he asked.

"Yes, but I felt it coming on and just closed my eyes. So, I never did any damage."

"When did it happen?"

"Well," I rubbed my eyes, hating to admit it yet again, "before Kate and I were married… I kind of did the same thing. We got into a fight and we very nearly broke up. I went after her and apologized, but before I did, I felt the heat vision flare up."

"Hum." He crossed his arms and rubbed a hand over his mouth as he thought. "It couldn't be related to women, could it?"

"No," I answered quickly.

"First Meredith and then twice with Kate." He hesitated, but went on. "Love is a very passionate emotion. Especially romantic love. It could be that you…"

"No. It's not what you think," I said, deflecting his train of thought. "It happened once when I fought with you, so it can't be all about women."

He blinked in surprise. "When did it happen with me?"

I looked away from him, nervously shifting in my seat. "That time you came over to the house… as Clark… and I was really rude to you and Mom grounded me and you kind of scolded me and I said that you weren't… you know…" I sounded like an adolescent who had been sent to the principal's office.

"That I wasn't your father," he finished for me, obviously remembering it as perfectly as I did. He wet his lips, and after a brief pause he asked. "Did your heat vision ever happen in response to your mother?"

"No," I said quietly.

"Richard?"

"No," I said even more softly, guilt settling in my stomach. Needing to explain things and justify my reaction to Clark, I started speaking before I could really think things though. "Mom and Dad never expected me to be anyone but who I was, so when I would get angry with them it was totally different than when I would get angry with you."

"I can agree with that," he said solemnly. "But that doesn't explain your reaction to the girls."

"Well, I had to pretend with them. A lot of time I was pretending to be something that I wasn't, and I was always worried that if they knew the truth about me that they would leave."

He nodded. "Okay, but Kate knows everything and yet it still happened with her."

"She accused me of having an affair," I said sternly. "I was afraid I was going to lose her over a lie, and I don't want to lose her."

In my head, the pieces suddenly all snapped into place. The force of the realization hit me hard enough that it was like someone had physically pushed me backwards. I gasped, groaned, and then closed my eyes and slowly lay back against the cold ground.

"What is it?" Clark asked, stepping closer to me.

"Kate's right." I chuckled darkly. "She's right. As much as I hate to admit it, her psychobabble is completely, one hundred percent accurate."

"About what?"

"I have a fear of abandonment," I said in a monotone voice.

"All right," he said in a voice that was clearly still confused.

"Every time it's happened," I explained, sitting back up, "I've thought I lost someone. Meredith and I break up. Boom. The kitchen goes up in flames. Then I flat out tell you that you aren't my father, and you don't fight back. Boom. It happens again. Then I fell in love with Kate and upset her so much that she walked out on me. Boom. The fire's back. And then… this happens. It's all from the fear of people leaving me."

"But Kate isn't going to leave you."

My eyes went wide. "If I was really having an affair, there's no way she would stay with me. I wouldn't deserve her, anyway, if it were true."

"But it's not."

"No, it's not. But my anger came from the fact that she thought it was true, and if that's what she thought then she had every right to leave me." I rested my elbows on my knees and put my head in my hands. "For years Kate has been telling me this is my main problem, and I would just roll my eyes at her and try not to think about it, but she's right. I don't want people to leave me. And it never happened with Mom and Dad because I never felt that way about them. I was never worried that they would ever leave me. Well… except when I was little."

"When?"

I looked up at him briefly. "Mom and Dad had a horrible fight just after they were married. I really thought Dad was going to leave. But see, I was too young then. I didn't have a lot of powers, just strength really. I remember I broke the plane."

"Oh, _that_ fight—" Clark stopped and turned away as if he'd said something he shouldn't have.

"You know about it?"

He turned his head toward me, and even though he stood very straight I could tell he was very uncomfortable. "That was when Richard found out you were my son."

I didn't know what to say to that, so I just sat and waited for him to go on. To my surprise, he didn't. Instead he asked, "Did it happen when Richard died? Given your theory about what causes your heat vision to flare up – when people leave you -- it would make sense that it would happen then."

I shook my head. "But I had no control over that. He died. He didn't purposefully and intentionally walk away from me without a fight. I was angry about it, yeah, but it wasn't the same thing."

"So, it has to be a conscious decision."

"I think so."

"And it has to relate to you and your abilities… or inabilities."

I glared at him. "What does that mean?"

"Well, with the girls I'm assuming that it was because you aren't fully human, and that they wouldn't accept you. That they would think your powers made you some kind of a freak."

"Yes," I agreed, not liking the casual, almost flippant tone his voice had taken on.

"And with me, it was because you aren't strong enough."

I blinked and frowned. "Yes," I said slowly.

"And now with Kate, you have abilities that you obviously can't control."

"That's why I'm here," I snapped.

"You should have been here a lot sooner, you realize. We could have probably had this under control years ago."

"So, it's my fault?"

"Partially."

I hadn't been expecting that at all. "Excuse me?"

"I've been wanting to teach you how to use your powers for years, Jason. But like you said, you always pushed me away. There's only so many times someone can be told to go away before they actually do. If you had come to me for help years ago, then I wouldn't be so reluctant to help you now."

"Wait a minute," I said and stood up. "Are you saying what I think you are saying?"

"If you think that what I'm saying is that it's almost pointless to teach you now, then yes."

I gaped at him. "You said you would help me."

"I said I would _try_. You're a grown man now, Jason. I learned how to use my abilities when I was still a teenager. You're not as strong as I am, or as capable as I am, and you're older than I was when I learned."

"Wait! Wait just one damn minute," I lashed out at him. "I didn't come here so you could insult me. Why are you even saying this?"

"Because it's the truth. I had hoped that there might be some chance of helping you, but I don't think so now."

"You didn't even give me a chance. You know, I expected this kind of thing from Jor-El," I snarled, pointing a finger over at the console. "I didn't think you would back out on me now."

"He's my father, Jason. What you have never understood is that a lot of the things he said were right."

I felt as if all the blood had been drained from my body. "What?"

"You're not fully Kryptonian. To assume you would have the ability to control your powers as well as I can is just ridiculous. You can't. I shouldn't even expect it of you."

Now, I was angry. "Hey, I think I have done a pretty damn good job keeping my powers in check, especially since you never taught me how to do it."

"You never asked me to teach you," he said calmly. "And I don't think you've done a very good job at all."

"Like hell I haven't!"

"You broke Richard's airplane."

"I was a child!"

"It took you years to control your hearing, and I _did_ try to teach you that one."

"Maybe if I hadn't been trying to deal with the fact that you were my _father_, things would have been different!"

"You set fire to the kitchen."

"That was the first time it happened! You said yourself that you didn't have any control the first time it happened."

"You set fire to your bedroom just a while ago."

I opened my mouth, but no retort came to mind. His cool, collected demeanor made my blood boil. "You're a real asshole, you know that?" I growled in frustration. "This is exactly why I avoided coming to you for help for all these years. Because I knew you would make me feel like crap."

"Then why are you here now?"

"Because I didn't have anyone else to turn to! Like it or not, you're my father."

"And you are my son." His eyes bore into mine. "So, prove it and do what is in your nature to do."

I scowled. "What do you mean?"

"You have the power, Jason." His voice was firm and intense. "You have the ability. You just deny it to yourself and then whine and complain when you can't contain it any longer."

"Because I don't know how!"

"Yes, you do! Stop making excuses and prove it to me."

"I don't have to prove anything to you!" I shouted.

"My son wouldn't back down from a challenge," he said in a voice so deep it sounded dangerous.

"Are you saying I'm not your son?"

"If you give up, yes."

I glared at him, angrier now than I think I'd ever been in my whole life. "I hate you."

"Good."

"You want me to hate you?" I sneered, stepping closer to him.

"It's not about what I want, Jason. It's about what you want."

"Well, what I want, I'm not gonna get, am I? I'm never gonna be free of this - free of these powers. I'm never gonna be good enough for you or capable enough for you!"

"If you say so," he said so smoothly I wanted to punch him as hard as I could.

My hand flew up as if I would hit him, yet he didn't even flinch. That only angered me even more. "How dare you!" I shouted into his face. "How dare you bring me here and say these things to me."

The hot anger within me stirred, and I felt the fire flare to life behind my eyes. I covered my eyes with my hands as quickly as I could and spun away from him.

"Damn it, Jason! Don't cover your eyes!" he yelled, spinning me back around to face him. After a moment, I heard him groan. "You weren't supposed to cover your eyes." His voice was back to its normal pitch and tone.

Slowly, cautiously, I blinked my eyes open to look at him. "I didn't want to hurt you." As soon as the words left my mouth I realized how stupid they were.

"You wouldn't hurt me," he said with a small smile. "Well, not physically at least. You can't hurt anything here."

I frowned at him, slightly confused. "You did that on purpose, didn't you?"

"Yes," he said. "And it was working, too, until you went and closed your eyes. Now we're going to have to start all over and find some other way to make you angry at me."

I swallowed, hard. "You didn't mean any of those things you said. It was all a lie."

"Yes," he said again. "For the first time in my life, I have told a bold-faced lie all for the sake of making you really angry at me."

I sniffed. "It worked."

"I'm sorry." He walked up to me and put his hands on my shoulders. "I really am sorry. I don't blame you for any of this. I think you did a wonderful job adapting to your powers. You picked up X-ray vision in a snap. And I don't expect you to have to prove anything to me. It was all just a way to upset you enough to trigger your heat vision."

I met his gaze, feeling badly for not having caught on to what he was doing sooner. "I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have believed you so quickly. You were just really convincing."

"It hurt to do it. I want you to know that. It really did hurt to say those things to you."

"It hurt even more to hear them," I admitted.

"Because that's what you believe about yourself. But you know, Jason, I did say something that was true."

I frowned in wordless reply.

"You do have the power to do this within you. Everything that you have ever set your mind to, you have been able to accomplish."

"Except fly," I added under my breath.

He smiled sadly at me and dropped his hands to his sides. "Well, that's a little different. Still, if you wanted to fly, you could have learned from Richard."

"True."

"Why didn't you?"

"Because flying in a plane was the easy way out. I didn't learn just to spite you, I guess. You said I couldn't fly, so I wasn't going to fly."

"I think that's what called a self-fulfilling prophecy."

My eyes rolled. "Oh, no. Not more psychobabble."

Clark chuckled. "Believe it or not, it's something my father told me."

I cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Not Jor-El. Geez," he groaned. "You really have a complex about him, don't you?"

"You just now figured that out?"

"I meant Jonathan Kent. I know you will be shocked to hear this, but I was a total misfit when I was in school."

I smirked. "I remember the pictures from Kansas."

"Exactly. I was probably one of the biggest nerds in my school. No matter what I did, no matter how cool I tried to be, I just came out looking more foolish. I complained about it to my dad one day, and I said that I didn't know why I even tried anymore. I couldn't be cool so why even try. He said that if I didn't believe it, then it never would happen. So… I… tried to believe in myself."

"And…" I slurred, waiting for the happy ending.

"And… I made a few friends. I stopped tripping over my feet all the time. I joined the school paper. I found the courage to ask out a really pretty girl. I wasn't Mr. Cool, but I wasn't the biggest dork either. And most importantly, if I didn't have any belief in myself, there would be no way I could ever feel confident about saving a life or averting a major crisis."

I shook my head. "But that's ridiculous. Not the beginning part, but the idea that you don't have confidence in your abilities."

"Why?"

"Because," I said in all obviousness, "you're Superman."

"So? You're Superman's son. Why don't you have confidence in _your _abilities?"

With a very pointed expression I said, "It's very different for me, and you know it."

"But it's _not_ very different. It's only different in your mind."

Now I really did gape at him. "Are we channeling Yoda now?"

He shrugged. "Yoda had a good point. You can't just try. You either do it, or you don't."

"I can't believe you're quoting Yoda," I said.

"Hey, it was a good movie!"

I chuckled at him.

"So, are you going to do this or not?" he asked, looking me directly in the eyes. "You can do this, Jason. You have the power to do it. You have it within you to control it. It's there; you just have to find it."

"And what if I don't find it?"

Without even blinking, Clark said, "You will."

I wet my lips, nodded, and squared up my shoulders. "Then tell me what I need to do."

With a smile, he pointed across the empty space to the far wall of the fortress. "Pinpoint a spot to aim for. You probably won't hit it the first time, but that's all right. You still have to aim. You have to focus all the heat you feel inside you – all the energy you gain from the sun. Heat vision is possible from the way your body stores the energy from sunlight, so all you have to do is channel that energy up and out."

"Yeah, cause that's so easy."

"It is. It's just heat. Just the release of it."

I found the spot I was aiming for and I glared at it. Hard. And then harder.

"Focus, Jason."

"I am."

"Feel the energy build up inside."

"It's not working."

"Then you're not doing it right."

I squinted my eyes. "Maybe if you kept quiet I'd be able to do it."

"Then do it."

"I'm going to."

I focused harder, squinting and scowling and scrunching my face into a look that I was sure was ghastly. I felt the pressure growing as I channeled whatever aggression or anger… or fear I had bottled up inside of me. The heat tingled behind my eyes.

"Come on, Jason."

"Will you shut up and let me do it?" I said through gritted teeth.

"If you would do it."

"I am!"

"Then show me."

"Fine!"

The mounting pressure ruptured and broke past whatever barrier was holding it back. Fire shot across the fortress and collided with the opposite wall in a shower of flames and sparks. In the next moment, I closed my eyes out of partial surprise and partial fear or what I had just done.

Beside me, Clark clapped and shouted his praise. "You did it! See. I told you that you could do it!"

My heart was racing in my chest, and I was slightly breathless, but I couldn't help but feel impressed with myself. "I did it," I said. A smile broke out across my face. "I really did it."

He turned to look at me, still smiling brightly. "How do you feel?"

"I feel… good. Really good."

"Good," he nodded. Then looking back across the expanse of open air to the spot I had hit just a moment before, he said, "Now, do it again."

When I opened the door to my house, I expected to find Kate running towards me, rushing into my arms. I had been gone nearly twenty-four hours from what I could tell. Usually when I'm gone, she and Eric both can't wait to hug me and tell me all about what I missed that day. However, I found her instead sitting in the dark on the couch in the den with red, puffy eyes and a tear-streaked face. She sat up when I entered the room and looked at me with a sorry expression.

"Hi," I smiled.

"Hi," she echoed weakly.

"Are you okay?"

She nodded, her eyes never leaving my face. "Are you?"

It was my turn to nod.

"Where did you go?" she asked in a broken voice.

I took a seat in the chair opposite from her. "I went to Clark's for help. I'm sorry I just ran out like that, but I didn't trust myself to stay here. I couldn't stay here if I was going to maybe hurt you again or do more damage. I had to learn how to stop it – or control it – or whatever you want to call it."

"Did you?" she said with hopeful eyes.

"Yes," I said softly. "It took me a while, but I got it. And I mean – really – I _got_ it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." I paused for a second. "It was amazing, Kate. I'd never gone to him before for instructions, really. When I was just a kid he taught me a little, but nothing like this. I never really gave him the chance. But this time…" I shook my head and let a small laugh spill out of me. "I didn't know it could be like this." 

"So," she breathed, "it went well?"

"Very well," I grinned. "In fact I… I wouldn't mind going back."

Her eyes went wide. "Was this at the Fortress?"

"Yes."

She pursed her lips and looked down at her hands. "You could have let me know where you went." Her voice was shaky and when she looked back up at me there were tears in her eyes. "I'd thought I'd lost you."

In the next moment my arms were around her, holding her to me and pressing kisses into her hair. "You could never lose me."

"I love you so much, Jason," she cried.

"And I love you. Don't you know that?" I leaned back slightly to look at her. "I would never cheat on you or leave you and Eric for any reason. I know what it's like to grow up without my real father and I'm not going to do that to my own family."

"I know, I know," she repeated.

"Why did you – how could you think that I would?"

She licked at her dry lips and sniffed. "She was so beautiful, Jason."

Taking her face in my hands I said, "_You_ are beautiful, Kate."

"No, I'm not," she sighed. "I might be pretty, but I'm not beautiful. Not like that."

I stared at her. "Are you kidding me?"

She pulled away from me. "I'm just… such a frump these days. Ever since Eric was born, I haven't felt pretty. It's been how long and my old clothes still don't fit. You work all the time, and I have school, or my clients, or Eric. I hardly ever see you, and when I do it's certainly not romantic. I don't feel romantic at all. I'm too tired to even make love. So, why wouldn't you go looking elsewhere?"

"That's completely…" I didn't have the right words for what she was saying. "I knew things were stressful for you right now, but I had no idea you felt like this."

"I'm trying to do it all and I'm falling short in every area. Eric is being raised in day care. My grades are slipping. And now my marriage is in danger."

"You're marriage isn't in danger," I corrected. "I honestly didn't know you were having these problems. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because everything is going so well for you! I don't want to be the downer that spoils the fun."

"You're my wife, Kate. If you're hurting then I need to know."

She wiped the tears off her face. "I thought I could handle it. I really did. I want to be everything for you."

"You are everything," I said, scooting closer to her and running my hands up and down her arms affectionately.

"I just feel like I'm failing you."

"Kate, honey, if school or work isn't going well for you, then I need to know, but that wouldn't change how much I love you."

She hesitated for a moment, and then stunned me by saying. "You have no idea how attractive you are. You don't ever notice how women look at you, but I do. You are completely oblivious to how sexy you look playing the piano. Or how perfectly beautiful your smile is. Or the way your eyes force people to do a double take when they see the color."

I gave her a look. "Honey. Come on."

"It's true. On more than one occasion I been in the bathroom during an intermission at one of your concerts and heard women talking about you and how sexy you are. I have seen women look at you… and then they look at me… and I know what they are thinking."

"Kate," I said firmly. "I don't care about anyone else. You said it yourself. I don't notice other women because I am in love with _you_."

She sniffed again. "I know that, too."

I sat back a little. "You do? Then why…?"

"Meredith called here again… when you didn't show up for rehearsal today."

I waited, not wanting to say anything without hearing Kate's take on the situation.

"She asked if you were sick from catching cold yesterday. I was snippy with her, but she was still very nice to me. She said…" Kate wiped at the corner of her eyes. "She said that I was a very lucky woman and told me how much you raved about me at lunch. She said that you bragged about Eric… and said how much you loved me."

"That's the truth, Kate. Nothing else happened."

"I know." The tears were falling freely now. "I'm so sorry. I am so, so sorry."

I wrapped my arms around her and let her cry against my chest. "I'm sorry, too. I know I scared you to death."

"As frightened as I was of the fire, I was more afraid that I'd pushed you away forever."

"Never," I said, kissing the side of her face.

She tilted her face up and slid her mouth over mine, kissing me deeply and intensely. "I love you," she said into my mouth. "I will never accuse you of anything like this again." She clung to me in desperation as she kissed me harder, more fully. "Please, forgive me. Please."

I broke away from her then. "Forgive _you_? Kate, I didn't think you would ever forgive _me_ for putting you in such danger."

"A house can be rebuilt," she said glancing round the room. "I know that from experience. But I can't lose you."

"I forgive you if you forgive me," I offered.

Without hesitation, she said, "Done."

My lips crushed against hers needfully as I pulled her to me. The desire to prove how much I wanted her – _needed_ her-- sliced through me. I scooped her up into my arms and carried her upstairs, all the while kissing and nibbling at her neck and her mouth. She didn't resist me until we entered the bedroom.

"Maybe we shouldn't… not in here," she panted breathlessly.

One glance up at the damaged ceiling, and I had to agree with her. There wasn't too much damage, for I could see that structurally the house was still sound. I must have put out the fire moments after it erupted. The drywall would have to be repaired though, and until then the burn marks on the ceiling would serve as a reminder for what almost happened, both to the house and to our relationship. Kate was right, there had to be somewhere else to go.

"Spare bedroom?" I asked with a raise of my eyebrows.

"It's about time we use it for something."

We did very little talking after that.


	34. Author's Note

Nothing but an author's note this time.

I am going through a major upheaval in my personal and family life and need to concentrate all of my energy on my kids right now. Thus, Being Jason White is on hiatus for a while. I will finish the fic as I am SOOOOO close to the end, but please don't look for updates for at least a month or longer. I wouldn't be saying this if it wasn't a real, honest to goodness emergency. I have pulled out of everything I do including a play a was just cast in and one of my church responsibilities. Life right now is my kids and securing my future. I appreciate all of the wonderful reviews I have had on the story, and it is for that reason that I give you my word that I will finish the story. I just need some time.

Thanks for all your support!

Alphie


	35. Age 27: The Whole Truth

_AN: You're not imagining things. I'm back! I'm sorry I've been away for so long and I wish I could tell you that all is well in my family and that everything is back to normal, but that isn't the case. However, the Jason muse hit me hard and wouldn't be ignored. Thanks for hanging in there with me until I could find it in me to write again. _

_I've had this scene with Clark in my head for months now, specifically one line in particular. I'm happy to say that each member of the beta team commented on the line, so I think I nailed it! And while I'm talking about the betas, thanks to Htbthomas and Mithah, as usual, for catching all my horrid typos. And to Van-el for the car and Trekkie for the kiss. _

_You may want to read the Clois one shot called "The Big Question" written by your's truly for the alternate side of this scene. If you can stick with me and wait a while longer, I do have one more chapter planned for this fic._

**Age 27: The Whole Truth**

It started with a simple question from Eric one morning over breakfast.

"How's come Gwamma Loith and Gwampa Cwark aren't mawied?"

My eyes shifted to Kate's for support and were met with a mere shrug.

"Well," I said, swallowing my food. "Grandpa Clark left and Grandma Lois got married to Grandpa Richard."

Puzzled, Eric asked, "When did he weve?"

"A long time ago."

"Nuh-uh," he said pointing at the television proudly. "He's white der!"

The news had footage of Superman rescuing some people from a bank robbery and handing the criminals over to the authorities.

"Eric, honey," Kate said. "He left a long time ago, before you were born."

"But he came back," Eric stated with wide eyes.

"Yes, he came back," I repeated, "but Grandma Lois is still pretty upset with him."

The little face I loved so well scrunched into a funny grimace. "Isth sthe gonna be upthet wif him at Chrithmath?"

Again, my eyes met Kate's. We had talked about this, worried about it to the point that we wondered if we had made the right decision to ask Mom and Clark to come over at the same time for Christmas Day. It was what Eric had wanted, but at three and a half years old, he didn't understand the dynamics of adult relationships, especially one as complicated as his grandparents. All he understood was that his grandma and grandpa, both whom he adored, weren't ever together like other grandparents. So, we gave in to his wish and asked them to celebrate the holiday with us together, rather than us dividing up the day between them as we had the previous few Christmases.

Eric's comment at breakfast led to another discussion between Kate and I about how to avoid the possibility of an argument between the two on a day that should be the happiest of days, especially for Eric. Clark wouldn't start anything, of that I was certain, but he wouldn't do anything to finish it either. Mom was bound to say something obviously cruel to get his back up, which she had done several times in the past, and Clark would sit there and take it like he usually did, not objecting to her complaints. I'd seen it played out a few times in the last several years. Not so much since Dad died, but it had been known to happen. The idea of it happening on Christmas didn't sit well with either Kate or myself.

Something had to be done, and that something, we decided, was to have a preliminary run-through of the day. We'd invite them both over for brunch on one of my Sundays off and see how it went. The only problem was, as their son, I was designated to be the one to explain to them the reason behind the invitation. I figured if I didn't give them much time to think it over and stew on it that they would be less likely to call up and cancel, so I waited until the day before to make my move. I also thought it would be best to start with Mom. Clark wouldn't object to anything; he was always ready to come to anything I invited him to. Mom was my main worry. Knowing her, she probably wouldn't want to spend any more time with Clark than necessary.

It was around eleven when I actually placed the first phone call. "Hi, Jason," Mom answered after letting the phone ring about a half dozen times. It didn't surprise me. Mom loved sleeping in on her days off. I was actually more surprised that she answered the phone at all.

"Hi, Mom. Did I wake you up?"

"No. I've been up for a while."

_That_ was a surprise. "Really? On a Saturday?"

"Oh, I've been awake, I've just been… lying in bed. I haven't really gotten up yet. But I've been awake. You know what I mean." It had all come out in an odd sort of jumble. "What exactly do you need, honey?"

Ignoring her unusual explanation, I went in for my own. "Well, Kate and I have been thinking about Christmas."

"What about it?"

"Okay…" I slurred. "Please hear me out before you get mad at me, but… we're worried about you and Clark… for Eric's sake really. See, he is old enough to recognize that you and Clark aren't exactly on the best of terms, and I'm just worried that it will put a damper on Christmas Day having you both over here." My words had been just as jumbled as mom's. Like mother like son, I supposed. "We don't want anything to ruin his fun that day."

"Jason, we wouldn't do anything that would upset him," she said.

"But you don't know that. Eric might pick up on it if you are just being distant and cold towards Clark. Or if you two get into an argument or something like that." It was a genuine concern, and one Mom had to realize and own up to.

"Honey, we wouldn't. We won't," she stressed.

"But you can't be sure," I countered. "So, to help kind of ease into things, we'd like to have you both over for brunch tomorrow as a sort of practice run for Christmas Day. That way you two can work out any difficulties now that might arise from spending a long time together, so that we all can better know what to expect on Christmas."

"Jason, really, that isn't necessary."

"Mom, please." For the sake of my son, I wasn't above begging.

"I will come to brunch, but I think you should know that a Clark and I…" She paused as if trying to find the right words, "…are on much better terms than you think. We can be very um… civil to each other."

I couldn't help but frown. Civil? What did she mean by that? "Even still," I said, putting the question in the back of my mind for later, "I'd like you both to come over. I just wanted to give you the heads up that I'll be inviting Clark, too."

"All right. What time?"

She gave in pretty quickly, and that seemed even odder than anything else.

"About ten o'clock."

"Need me to bring anything?"

"No, just come with a good attitude. Okay?"

She snorted. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"Well, I know how well you and Clark get along."

"Not as well as you think," she replied. And then came the most bizarre moment of all; she laughed.

"Mom? You okay?"

"I'm fine. I'll see you tomorrow."

Without so much as another word, the line went dead. I thought about that laugh for a minute. The laugh and the strange way she defined her relationship with Clark as being… civil.

"What's up?" Kate asked when she saw my face.

"I just had a weird conversation with my mom. She didn't sound like herself."

"Maybe she was sleepy," Kate offered.

"I dunno, but she did agree to come over tomorrow for brunch."

"Great!"

Something thudded to the floor in the other room. "MOMMY!"

Kate rolled her eyes. "I'll go see what damage he's done now. You call Clark. Oh, and ask if he can bring some of those French pastry things he brought for my last birthday."

Again the phone rang a fair number of times before he answered it. And again, this was no surprise to me. Clark might be more of a morning person than Mom, but he was also one of, if not the busiest man on the whole planet.

"Good morning, Jason," he said rather enthusiastically.

"Hi," I slurred. "You're awfully cheerful this morning."

"Am I?"

"Yeah, what's up?"

"Nothing. Nothing's up. Nothing at all."

On the other end of the phone I could hear a woman's voice mumble something. "Who is that?"

"It's… em…" For the second time that morning I was met with an awkward pause that sounded as if the speaker was trying to come up with something clever to say. What Clark came up with was the last thing I'd ever expect to hear from him. "Oh, you know, that was just my half naked girlfriend making off-handed comments from the other side of the room."

I made a face at the very idea. "Ha," I mocked.

"What did you need, Jason?"

"I just wondered if you might want to come over for brunch tomorrow?"

"Yeah, sure."

"With Mom," I added, expecting a reaction.

Clark didn't even miss a beat. "Sure. Why wouldn't I want to be there with your mom?"

"It isn't that. It's just that I think it would make things on Christmas Day go over a lot more smoothly if we gave it a trial run first since you two haven't been on the best of terms lately."

"Oh, now come on," he sighed. "Things have been a lot better recently. We've even worked on a couple of stories together."

"I know, but when you two are alone together for any length of time, things kind of start to get messy."

"Yeah," he said in a tone that I'd never heard before. "Messy."

I wasn't sure what was going on, but I had to push through this. "I just don't want things to go badly at Christmas this year for Eric's sake."

"Look, Jason," he said, and his tone was suddenly very focused and sincere. "You don't have to worry about that. I promise you, Lois and I will be fine. We wouldn't do anything that would upset Eric."

"That's what Mom said."

"Well, she's right. She's right a lot of the time, actually."

Wow. That was a shock. Clark and Mom agreeing on something? "Still, will you be here tomorrow around ten?"

"Of course."

"And um…" I hesitated. "Do you think you could bring some of those pastries like you did for Kate's birthday?"

He chuckled. "She liked those, did she?"

"Yeah, she did. Could you bring about a dozen?"

"No problem. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay. Thanks."

Then, with what had become his usual way of ending conversations with me just to make sure I didn't forget, he said, "I love you."

I smiled. "I know."

I clicked off the phone and stood for a moment, lost in thought. Something wasn't right; I could feel it. I couldn't place it, but it was certainly there. To have Mom sound strange is one thing. Odd behavior from Clark at this point in our relationship was also unusual. But to get it from both of them left me uneasier than I was comfortable with.

"Maybe they've worked out their differences," Kate suggested when I voiced my concerns.

"That fast? Uh-uh." I made a face at her. "I don't buy it. It's something else. Problem is, I don't know what."

"You know what I think it is?" Kate said, popping her hip.

"What?"

"I think you have lived your whole life thinking people are keeping secrets from you."

"Which they were," I said pointedly.

"Yes, they were. But now you're expecting it – _looking_ for it even."

"You think I'm imagining things here?"

"No, I think you're displacing your fears and interpreting events the way you want to rather than the way they really are."

I just smirked at her in response.

"Okay," she laughed. "I'll stop with the psychoanalysis if you stop with the empty assumptions about tomorrow."

We both agreed to do just that, but not talking about it didn't mean that I didn't still feel it. I knew something was up; I just couldn't put a finger on it. The anticipation of finding out what that something was grew overnight and through the next morning. Thankfully, Eric was oblivious to it and Kate was able to brush it off. Everything was pretty much ready to go when the doorbell rang just a few minutes after ten.

"Clark's here," Kate announced while washing up a few of the dishes she had used to prepare the quiche.

Placing the last set of silverware down on the table, I reached out with my hearing to confirm our guest and was surprised to hear the more rapid heartbeat and distinctly feminine fidgeting that accompanied my mother. "Nope. It's Mom."

"Lois? Hum… I didn't think she'd be so prompt."

I had to agree with Kate. Mom wasn't prone to lateness – a reporter had to follow a deadline for everything or miss the scoop. Yet Clark was always the first one on the scene for any event. It wasn't just that his speed gave him the advantage, but he also genuinely desired to be part of everything. I'd come to understand that he felt he'd missed so much in the past that he would do everything he could to not miss a moment from here on out. However, Mom showed up first today.

I opened the door to find her smiling a bright, toothy grin. "Hi, Jason!" She leaned in and hugged me tight.

"Hi, Mom," I said, slightly taken aback by her exuberance. Not that mom wasn't affectionate, it just seemed that she was overly so this morning. As we looked at each other, her heart rate started to race.

"Gwamma!" came the squeal from over my shoulder.

Eric ran to her, and she scooped him up in her arms. "How's my favorite little guy?"

"I'm happy. Daddy says you an' Gwampa Cwark are gonna be weel nice today!"

I rolled my eyes, but mom didn't even seem phased.

"That's right. We are. Now, why don't you show me that train set you love so much?"

I watched as Eric tugged on her arm and led her up into his bedroom. Kate and I shared a smile before we headed back into the kitchen.

"She seemed pretty calm," Kate said, opening the refrigerator and pulling out the fruit she had prepared earlier.

"You think so? I thought she seemed a bit too… happy."

Kate chuckled. "I don't know if it's possible for anyone to be too happy. Now make yourself useful and take this to the table."

I did as requested, but there was still something that didn't sit right with me about mom. "Maybe too happy is the wrong way to describe it. It's more like she's being purposefully happy."

"Isn't that what you asked her to do?"

I shrugged and leaned against the wall. "Her heart was racing," I explained.

"So? This is the first time we're going to do something with your mom and Clark together. Isn't your heart racing just a little bit?"

She had a point.

The doorbell rang again. "That will be Clark," I said, heading for the door.

"Morning, Jason," he greeted.

It took me all of two seconds to catch on to the fact that Clark was about as nervous as I'd ever seen him in his whole life. His smile, his light laugh, and his body language all reflected a man desperate to make a good impression.

"Come on in," I said stepping aside to let him pass. "Mom's already here."

"I know," he said quickly. "I mean, um," he stammered, "I can hear that she's – she's playing with Eric. That's – that's how I know she's already here."

"I figured," I replied, but there was something in the way he nervously fidgeted with his pockets and shifted his weight that left me wondering.

"Did you bring the food?" I asked, hoping to ease some of the tension.

"Oh! Of course," he said, turning around quickly. "I left it in the car."

"The car?" I asked in surprise. "Since when do you have a car?"

Clark turned back around. "Um…"

"Since when do you even _need_ a car?"

"I don't. I… um…"

"Gwampa! Gwampa!" Eric called, charging down the steps toward his grandfather and saving Clark from whatever explanation he had up his sleeve.

"Hey there, big guy!" Clark picked him up with ease and spun him around. "You are getting so big!"

"I am?"

"Every time I see you I'm amazed at how much bigger you are!"

"I c'be big and swtong wike you!"

Clark smiled. "Someday you will be."

Just then, mom came down the stairs, too. It was as if the temperature in the apartment dropped 20 degrees. Everyone froze in place as Clark and Mom looked at each other for a long moment.

Mom smiled a small smile. "Hello, Clark."

"Hello, Lois," he said gently.

Another tense moment passed as they just held each other's gaze.

"Gwama was pwaying twains wif me. Do you wanna pway, too, Gwampa?"

Smiling down at the little boy in his arms, Clark said, "I would love to play with you." He looked back at Mom, "If that's all right with your grandma."

"Of course."

"Good," Kate spoke up. "That will give Jason and I a chance to finish getting everything on the table. Then we can eat in a few minutes."

"Okay," Mom said, still looking at Clark.

"Sounds good," Clark agreed.

I watched as they hesitantly walked upstairs towards Eric's bedroom. My son laughed and chattered away endlessly, but Mom and Clark were pretty quiet and reserved. Something was going on. Something wasn't right. I just couldn't put my finger on it.

"So?" Kate said, diverting my attention away from the back bedroom. "What do you think?"

"I think something isn't exactly right."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. They just… seem… off. They aren't acting like themselves."

Kate picked up the champagne bottle and tried to pop the cork. "Honey, you asked them to behave this way. You asked them to be polite and civil and not fight. So you should get suspicious when they do what you ask. By the way, did he bring my French yummies?"

"See, it's things like that. He said he left them in the car, but he doesn't even have a car."

"Hum," she considered. "Maybe he took a taxi so he wouldn't look suspicious just showing up at our front door." Handing the bottle to me she said, "Here, you open this. I'm not good at this sort of thing. I'll get the orange juice."

I wasn't too fond of mimosas, but Kate thought the touch of alcohol would help settle whatever nerves any of us might have today. "I just get the feeling that there is something going on that I'm not seeing," I stated as I worked at the cork.

"Like what?"

"Again, I don't know."

"So, then look."

"Look?"

"Yeah." She nodded her head in the direction of Eric's room.

Understanding her, I looked up and squinted my eyes until I could see Eric playing quietly in his room… alone. "Wait a sec," I said. "Where'd they go?"

Turning my head, I found them standing close together next to the downstairs fireplace, whispering nervously.

"I think we should wait until after we eat," Mom said.

"Lois, no. I can't. We've got to say something now."

"And I still think we should wait until Eric is sleepy and goes down for a nap."

Clark wet his lips. "I don't know, Lois," he sighed deeply. "I hate keeping things from him. I don't want to upset him."

"He won't be upset." She took his hands in hers and squeezed them. "Trust me. We will do this together and it will be fine."

"But Lois—"

"Shhh…" She placed a finger over his lips.

My whole body chilled at what I saw next. Mom pulled his face down to hers and kissed him lightly on the lips.

From somewhere beside me I heard Kate say, "Jason, are you okay?"

But my full attention was on Mom and how she was mumbling the words, "Trust me" and "I love you" against Clark's mouth. I tensed up, my heart thudding madly and my hands clenching into fists.

Well…_ one_ fist. The other hand still held onto the champagne bottle.

Suddenly, with a loud bang, the cork on the bottle went flying through the kitchen and shattered a few glasses on the other side of the room. The frothy liquid erupted out of its containment and splattered all over me and the floor. Kate gasped and rushed toward me in a futile attempt at stopping the champagne from spilling out too much. I simply stood there in total shock at the whole situation, unable to wrap my mind around what I had seen and heard, let alone clean myself up.

"Jason!" she said, trying to snap me out of it.

But it wasn't of much use, for when Mom and Clark came around the corner to see what the matter was, I could do nothing but stare at them in utter confusion. Not realizing this, Mom went to work helping Kate at mopping up the liquid from all over the floor. However, Clark understood my expression right away. His eyes met mine and he seemed to instantly know what had happened. We wordlessly stared at one another until guilt took over and he looked away.

Keeping my eyes fixed on Clark I muttered, "How long?"

Mom turned to look at me and then up at Clark. With a small gasp, she froze.

The silence that filled the room was deafening.

Looking from face to face, Kate asked a very hesitant, "What's going on?"

"How long?" I repeated.

Clark swallowed and opened his mouth to speak, but Mom answered for him.

"It isn't what you think, Jason." She stood up and faced me.

"It isn't?" I said doubtfully. "Given what I just saw happen between the two of you, I think—"

"Friday," she interrupted. "I asked Clark to come over Friday evening. We worked through things. We… talked."

The way she hesitated over the word "talked" gave a clear indication that there was more than just talking involved.

"Okay, what's going on?" Kate asked.

"Well, you see, honey," I said in a bitter tone, "it seems that once again my parents have forgotten that I happen to have the ability to see through walls and hear what's going on in the next room and decided to talk about some rather personal details that they are keeping a secret from me in a place where I can clearly see and hear them."

"That isn't what we were doing," Clark said.

"Yes, it is," I countered. "You were talking about keeping secrets from me and then you kissed her! I think that's a pretty big secret!"

"Jason—"

Ignoring Clark, I turned to mom. "Did Dad know about this?"

"You mean, Richard?"

"Yeah, did he know this was going on?"

Before Mom even got a word in, Clark stepped forward and spoke up. "Nothing ever happened between Lois and I while she was married to Richard. Ever. You have my word on that."

"And your word is worth so much," I retorted.

But that didn't stop him. "And you need to apologize for even suggesting that your mother would be unfaithful to Richard. I swear to you, Jason, nothing ever happened."

"Until this weekend," I added.

Clark didn't have a comeback for that one.

"I still don't understand why you felt you needed to keep this a secret from me?" I continued, looking at mom. "Why didn't you just tell me on the phone? I called you on Saturday. I called both of you. Either one of you could have said that you…"

The pieces fell together in my brain in an instant.

"You were together when I called. Weren't you?"

Again there was no reply.

I closed my eyes and started to chuckle. "What did you think? I wouldn't be able to handle it? That I didn't know there were feelings and issues between you two?"

"We wanted to tell you face-to-face," Mom said. "I didn't think that this was something you should hear over the phone. And like you said, there were details we had to work out first."

"What kind of details? So, you're together. As surprising as it is, I'm not so clueless as to not know that you both have feelings for each other. It's not like you're getting married."

For what seemed like the hundredth time that morning, my comment was met with silence. Mom and Clark glanced at each other nervously. Both of their heart rates were quickly picking up speed. I only blinked in utter shock as I took in the full meaning of that silence.

Finding my voice, I said, "You're getting married?" I looked from mom back to Clark and waited for the confirmation, which came in the form of a small nod. "Publicly?" I added. "I mean, you're going to get married in front of God and everybody?"

"That's what a wedding is, Jason," Mom said softly, but my eyes never left Clark's face.

After a long pause, Clark said, "I love your mother, Jason. I've never made that a secret from you."

"No, you haven't," I agreed. "But it's been a secret from the world."

He sighed. "I love her, Jason. I have the chance to spend the rest of my life with her, and I'm not going to risk losing her again."

"But… married? I mean…" I was at a total loss for words. Not that they were in love, because any idiot could see that Mom's anger over what he had done in the past came from the fact that she loved him. And it wasn't over the fact that they wanted to be together now, because I could support that. What I couldn't support was him being so open about a relationship he repeatedly told me had to remain a secret. Just like his relationship with me had to be a secret.

I ran my fingers through my hair and looked at Clark expectantly, waiting for him to explain his reasoning. "This is important to me, Jason," he said. "I have wanted this for so long. I had hoped that you would understand."

"I do understand. I understand perfectly," I bit out. "This is important to you… and some things are just too important. Some things are more important than others. So, you just go and do whatever it is you need to do so you can have what you want. That's the way you've always lived your life. Why should you change now?"

"That's not what I—"

But I didn't want to hear it. I couldn't stand still anymore and had to get out of there. "No, no need to explain. I get it. And I'm done. I can't do this anymore. I just can't." Kate reached for me as I stormed out of the kitchen. I looked back at her and shook my head before heading up to my bedroom where I slammed the door and tried to force myself to calm down before I did any damage to anything or anyone.

My calm was put on hold, though, when a knock sounded on the door. I didn't even need to use X-ray vision to know who it was. I knew that heartbeat too well.

"Go away," I said.

"No, Jason. Not this time," Clark replied.

"I do not want to talk to you!"

"I don't care. We have to talk about this."

"No, we really don't. I just want you to leave me alone."

"Well, sorry, but I know that game and you yourself told me that you only say that as a test to see if I will be bold enough to stay and work things out with you. So, I'm not leaving this time."

It was a cruel thing to use a man's own words against him. But I had just as much ammunition as he did.

I squinted at the door until Clark came into focus. He was looking at me, too, just as if the door wasn't even there. You'd think I would have learned by now that there really isn't a way to hide from him, no matter how much I wanted to.

"We can talk through the door if you want, but I think it'd be a lot easier if you let me in," he said.

I sneered at him and flung the door open. "You know, not only can you be totally annoying, but you really are the biggest liar I have ever met."

"What did I lie about this time?" he frowned.

I just shook my head at him. "I've told you so many times that I'm sick to death of repeating myself! It just goes in one ear and out the other. You may have super hearing, but your listening skills are seriously lacking!"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"My point exactly! You don't get it. You never have got it and you never will! So, what's the point of going over it again?"

Eric chose that exact moment to come out from his room. He looked right up at us with a sad little frown on his face. "Whas wong, Daddy?"

I took a deep, steadying breath. "Daddy and Grandpa Clark are just having a disagreement. Don't worry though. We're used to this."

Clark flinched.

I patted Eric's head and said, "Why don't you go find Mommy and let us finish talking, okay?"

"You were shouting," he whined.

"We won't shout anymore," I promised. "In fact, we're done talking." I made eye contact with Clark to make sure he got my meaning before smiling down at Eric. "Let's go find Mommy, okay?"

"'K," he said sadly. I picked him up and carried him down the steps with Clark trailing behind us. At the bottom, I put Eric down and waited for him to make his way around the corner.

When he was well out of sight Clark said, "We are not done talking."

"Yes, we are, because I will not do this in front of my son."

"Fine, then we will go someplace more private."

I laughed at him. "I'm not going anywhere."

Without even acknowledging my words, he took hold of my arm and pulled me towards the front door. "What are you doing?" I shouted. Yet I already knew what he was doing. He meant it when he said we'd go someplace private. And once he had me out of the house and checked to make sure no one was looking, we were in the air, flying. The crisp, winter air brushed around us. The only question I had now was where we were going. Several times I demanded that he put me down, but it wasn't until the city was far behind us and there was nothing around but trees and distant houses that he actually responded.

We landed and I immediately jerked around to yell at him. "Are you insane? What the hell is with you today?"

"I have the same question about you!"

I gaped at him. "I'm angry! That's what's with me. And I have every right to be!"

"I'm angry, too," he stated. "I have spent years trying to work things out with you and with Lois. I have apologized for my mistakes and have done everything I can to set things right. Now, it was wrong for us to not tell you right away what was going on between your mother and me, but that does not make me a liar. And I refuse to just let you yell at me and accuse me and end up where we were ten years ago. I've fought too hard."

"_I've_ fought too hard!" I lashed out. "I'm the one who has fought through this to try to make you understand what it's like for me, and every time I get my hopes up you do something like this to put me back in place and make me feel like crap!"

"What did I do, Jason?" he said, and I could almost feel his anger rising.

"You're gonna marry Mom!"

"I have always made it clear to you that I love Lois. Why is that so hard for you to accept?"

"It's not that I don't accept it. I completely understand that you love her. No big surprise there."

"Is it because you think she is betraying Richard by loving me?"

I scowled at him. "Oh, please. Don't you think I'm old enough to understand that people can fall in love again when they lose someone?"

"But you asked about Richard."

"Yeah! Because I wanted to know if you guys were together while he was still alive. I don't care if it started after he died."

"Then why don't you want me to marry her?"

"It's public!"

"Most weddings are, Jason."

I just gaped at him for a moment. "You know, I've been jealous lots of times in my life. Jealous of kids who were normal. Jealous of the people who got to be rescued by you and spend a moment with you. Jealous of normal families who aren't keeping their identities a secret. But never in a million years did I ever expect to be jealous of my own mother."

He blinked in confusion. "Why are you jealous of Lois?"

"Because you'll break the rules for her and not for me."

He looked back at me with the same puzzled expression as before.

"You love her that much," I continued. "The rules don't matter where she is concerned. From what I understand, they never have. You'll bend and break the rules for her every time. But not for me. NEVER for me."

He looked dazed. "I don't know what you mean here, Jason."

Laughing, I said, "And with that, you've just proved my point."

"What rules did I—"

"No one can know, Jason," I snapped, walking closer with each step. "No one can ever know. This has to be a secret. You can't ever tell anyone." I was now standing right in front of him, shouting in his face. "No one can EVER know! How many times have you drilled that into my brain? How many times have I lied for you to keep your precious little secret at the expense of what I wanted? All because no one can ever know! I could never do to Eric what you have done to me. I could never look him in the eyes and tell him he has to deny me as his father. I could never pass him off as someone else's son and never claim him as my own, because I know how that feels. As a son, I know all too well. And as a father… it just leaves me breathless that you've done it for all these years. How you do it is beyond me!"

He was breathing quickly as he spoke. "That was about Superman, Jason. And I still stand by that one hundred percent. No one can know that Superman has a son."

"But they can know he has a wife!" I spat.

"No," he said quickly. "Lois is marrying me as Clark, not Superman. Her relationship will be with Clark and only Clark."

I waited a second for him to go on, but he didn't. "So?" I said, not following his logic. "It will still be public."

"As Clark, not Superman."

"But it's still you! Talk about yourself in the third person all you want but you are still Clark and you are still Superman."

"But it's different."

"Not to me."

"Superman cannot have a family, Jason. It's too dangerous!"

"Fine! I agree with you! But what about Clark?"

The shouting stopped abruptly and Clark just stared back at me as if he'd never really looked at me before.

"Are you saying…" He wet his lips. "Are you saying that you… would be okay if people knew that you were… _my _son?"

I made a face at him. "You're kidding me, right? You didn't just ask me that."

He took a few breaths. "That's… what this is all about?"

"That's what it's always been about."

He shook his head in disagreement. "No, I thought we always had problems with keeping it a secret that you are Superman's son."

"Clark… Superman…" I shrugged. "You've always been the same person to me."

"So you want… you want to be… _Clark Kent's_ son?"

I gaped at him in confusion. "I am Clark Kent's son."

We stared at each other for a long time, not saying a word. After a few moments, there was a wetness in Clark's eyes that made me slightly uncomfortable and I had to look away.

"I'm sorry I've been so…" Clark started, but didn't finish. "I'm sorry, Jason. I never thought that you would want… me… as a father. I mean, publicly. Being able to say Superman is your father is one thing, because with that might come some dignity and respect. Even with Richard as your father, there's more there. Richard was well liked and talented and popular. But Clark… Clark isn't as smooth or so cool."

"So?" I shrugged again. "It doesn't make you any less decent of a person. And it doesn't change the fact that you are my father and I'd like to… just once… be able to claim that as the truth."

"And you think I don't want that, too?" he asked.

"You never have. I can't be a part of your public life. Yet you'll run off and marry Mom and say that you're in love with her and have a public life with her."

Without hesitation, he stepped forward and placed his hands on my shoulders. "Nothing would give me greater honor than to be able to tell the world that you are my son."

"Then why don't you? Why haven't you?" I asked, fighting off the stinging wetness I felt in my eyes.

"If that's what you want, Jason, then consider it done."

My heart thudded madly against my chest, partially in happiness and partially in disbelief. "Really?" I said.

"Yes. And that's not a lie. Not even a little bit of a lie."

"Okay," I nodded.

He smiled and pulled me towards him for an all-encompassing hug. "I love you, Jason." He said. "Please tell me you know that."

"I know," I said. "I love you, too… Dad."

His grip on me tightened significantly. And then I felt something I had never felt before from him; he kissed my hair along my temple. I closed my eyes and let the sensation wash over me. It lasted a few seconds, but they meant the world to me.

After a moment he added, "I still want to marry Lois."

I laughed and pulled away from him. "I know that, too."

"Are you okay with that?"

"Yeah," I smiled. "Actually, when you think about it, I will probably be able to help you with that."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, you have to know that there will be a lot of people very surprised when you announce your engagement."

"Yes. Lois and I have talked about that, but we aren't too worried. We figured we could tell them that we had feelings about each other years ago, but that she fell in love with Richard while I was gone and… the rest they know."

"So, basically, you'll tell the truth."

"Yes," he agreed.

"So, having a secret love child would only prove your point."

His face went from shock to amused disbelief. "How is it that you can go from being angry to sentimental to a cracking a joke all in a matter of minutes? Where did that come from?"

I cocked my head. "Richard." Before the smile on Clark's face started to fade, I added, "But the superpowers, those are definitely from you."

He sighed and wet his lips in thought. "So, we're okay then?"

"Better than okay."

"Then let's head back and make sure the ladies know."

"Agreed. And we want to make sure and bring in the pastries this time as a peace offering."

"They're in Lois' car," he informed me.

"I knew it!" I said. "I just knew it!"

"Yeah, yeah," he sighed as we rose up into the air and headed back to where our family waited for us.

It was a slightly uncomfortable reunion, but both Mom and Kate took the news as to what I wanted pretty well. We spent the afternoon eating and talking and playing with Eric the way a perfectly normal family would, and only once found ourselves interrupted by a request for help from a stranger.

When Clark returned from his rescue mission, it was late in the afternoon and Eric had gone down for his nap. Clark asked if he could talk with me alone for a minute, and I followed him into the front room where he stood holding a small, rectangular box wrapped up for Christmas.

He didn't look up from the box as he said, "I know I should probably wait until Christmas Day to give you this, but I think it might be more meaningful if you were to open it now. I wrote this card last night. It might prove to you how sorry I really am that Lois and I didn't tell you what was going on right away."

I took the gift from him and opened the card to read:

Jason –

If you are reading this then I've failed to keep my promise to you and have upset you once again. It was never my intention to upset you in any way by loving your mother. I love you both so very much and want both of you in my life for always. I can understand why you are angry with me, and I will continue to apologize until the time comes when you can again trust me. Hopefully, it won't be too long. It's my greatest wish that your life be a steady one and that I can play some part in it. Until then, I hope that this gift will serve as a reminder that I will be here for you when you need me.

Dad

I looked up at him. "But I'm not angry anymore."

"I know. Like I said, I wrote that last night in anticipation of you getting angry."

I frowned. "I guess it's kind of a habit. I'm sorry."

"It's all right," he smiled. "Just open it and tell me what you think."

I began to tear away the wrapping only to stop when I realized what it was. "Oh, my gosh," I breathed quietly. "Dad… I…"

Words failed me as I took the object out of it's box. In my hands I held a solid ebony, key wound metronome. The Wittner label on the front was good indication that this cost Clark a pretty penny.

"The last time I was over here I noticed that yours was kind of old," he said. "I figured a professional concert pianist should have only the best."

"It's beautiful," I mumbled, fingering the wood of the metronome and trying not to smudge or leave finger prints on the gloss. "But these are so expensive."

"Don't worry about it. I have about twenty-seven birthdays and Christmases to catch up on here."

I hugged him in gratitude. Grateful for the gift. Grateful that we were all together. That there were no more secrets. That I could openly call him my father. And that for this brief moment in time, all was right in the world.


	36. Age 28: The House of El

_AN: Well, this is it. Being Jason White is officially done. Yes, I have lots of little side stories I might write in the future, but as far as following Jason's progression, I think by the end of the chapter you will see that I've taken him about as far as he will go for the purpose of this story. I also hope that lots of questions will be answered by this final chapter... as well as leave enough open that should I write again in this AU I will still have some surprises up my sleeve._

Lots of thanks to htbthomas, who not only beta read for me but managed to send me the bit of Kryptonian I needed to make this chapter "complete." (Unfortunately fanfiction dot net wont' allow me to use the image, so if you want to see the image you have to read the chapter on Live Journal.) Van-El for working me through the technical side of some things. _Hellish __for being the a devoted beta in any and all fandoms, and Trekkie for being my cheerleader of sorts though this._

In case you are wondering and you haven't noticed, this means Being Jason White can be nominated for any and all categories in the supesmvawards including completed fic. BJW didn't win anything last time around, nor did Kate as an OC or Jason/Kate as a couple! So I'm pimping them out because I don't know when I will ever get to torture them again.

Thank all of you for your support for the last two years in this fandom. I would never have written as much as I did were it not for the support and love I have felt from all of my on-line friends. You all rock. I hope you enjoy the chapter!

**Age 28 – The House of El**

Change is inevitable. I've experienced change every year – every month – every day of my life. But never have I experienced so many changes in one year. It hasn't even been a full year yet and already my life has done a near one-eighty from where it was this time last year.

First was the open acceptance of Clark as my biological father. Telling the staff of the Daily Planet was nerve-wracking, especially considering how Jimmy Olson thought it was a joke and laughed for a good three minutes. Of course, that was only the precursor to my Uncle Perry dropping a bomb on me that I never saw coming.

Mom and Clark initially didn't plan on telling everyone right away, but from what I understand, they made it pretty impossible to miss. They announced their engagement at the Daily Planet Christmas Eve party, which was followed up with an actual, albeit impromptu engagement party at the start of the New Year. Jimmy Olson sauntered up to me more than a little tipsy with a drink in hand and a laugh already rolling through his chest.

"Oh, Jason," he crooned. "I have been hearing the craziest rumors these last few days."

"Like what?" I asked even though I had an inkling of what was coming.

"Oh, man. You will not believe this," he laughed. "And for the record, I didn't start it, but—" He laughed again, a wide grin on his face. "It's going around that you – that Lois and Clark…" He snorted and doubled over, unable to actually say it. "Someone said that a long time ago Lois and Clark had been… you know?" He made a rude gesture as his voice dropped in pitch. "And that you were actually—" he laughed, "that you were really Clark's son… not Richard's!" Jimmy was now full out laughing to the point where he was nearly crying.

I, on the other hand, was standing still with a small, somewhat sad smile on my face. The truth had been locked up for so long that even the people who had known my parents from the beginning found it laughable.

It took Jimmy a good two or three minutes to regain composure. When he did, and once he realized that I wasn't laughing, his face took on a much more solemn expression. "It's just a rumor," he said in his attempt at comforting me.

"It's not just a rumor, Jimmy," I replied. "It's the truth."

I don't think I'd ever seen a more stunned expression on anyone's face than I did at that moment. Jimmy really _was_ shocked by my admission. Little did I know that I was about to receive an even bigger shock that would shake the foundations of my entire existence.

It came about a week or so later, after Jimmy managed to spread the word that the "craziest" rumor was in fact the truth. I stopped by to talk with mom about watching Eric for Kate and me when my Uncle Perry called me into his office. Even in his mid-seventies, Perry White was still a force to be reckoned with. I'd never been fully comfortable around him, but I did respect him and love him.

He guided me into his office, closed the door behind him, and then just stood there and looked at me for several long and silent seconds. "I want to hear it from you, Jason."

"Hear what?" I asked.

"I want you to tell me that Clark Kent is your biological father."

I released a deep breath and slumped forward a bit. Uncle Perry had been very close to Dad – to Richard. Hearing that I wasn't really his son had to be upsetting and confusing. "Uncle Perry, I don't want you to be angry about this."

"I'm not," he said evenly. "I just need to hear you say it."

His calm demeanor puzzled me, but I did as he asked. "Clark Kent really is my biological father." Then, just to try to ease whatever pain might be there, I quickly added, "But Dad knew about it."

Uncle Perry nodded. "I know he did. He told me."

That surprised me. "He did?"

"Yes. He told me a long time ago that you weren't really his son. He was torn up over it, because if ever a man loved a child more than Richard loved you, then I've never seen it. And he made me swear never to treat you any differently than I would if you were his real son. And I didn't."

Something wasn't sitting right in my belly. There was more to this story and I dreaded hearing it, fearing the worst. Nevertheless, I was going to hear it, for there was no stopping Uncle Perry.

He took a step forward and slid his hands into his pockets. "Thing is, Jason, when Richard told me that you weren't his son, the name that he gave as your biological father sure as hell wasn't Clark Kent."

The sinking feeling in my gut twisted into a knot and pulled hard. I swallowed hard and Uncle Perry dropped the unavoidable bomb at my feet.

"He told me… when you were all of seven years old… that Superman was your father."

I blinked. There wasn't much else I could do but blink and stare and worry.

"I swore – against all that I believe in as a reporter – that I would never tell another living soul that I had that information. It was the biggest, most impressive secret I have ever been trusted with. Every fiber of my being wanted to run it as a headline and be known as the editor who scooped the world, but I didn't. I kept my word to Richard. I never said anything to you or even Lois that I knew. You're family, Jason. You were the best thing that ever happened to Richard – and because of you, I got myself one hell of a reporter at the head of my international division who was committed to staying here in Metropolis as well as the knowledge that Superman would be around for a long, long time, 'cause let's face it – the Man of Steel isn't going to run away a second time and leave his own son behind. So, I kept my word, difficult as it was to do."

Somehow I found my voice. "Thank you."

He smiled. "Oh, don't thank me yet… 'cause you see, you just told me Clark Kent was your father."

I blinked again. And then fought back the panic settling in my heart.

"You're not a very good liar, Jason. Richard used to say that he always knew when you weren't being completely honest with him because you either turned really defensive or you couldn't look him in the eye. Yet you stood there just now and looked directly at me and very calmly stated that Clark Kent was your father."

"Look, Uncle Perry, Clark… um…"

"You're looking down," he pointed out. "Whatever you're going to say is a lie."

I looked up at him. "What do you want me to say?"

"I want you to tell me that I haven't been the biggest idiot to ever run a newspaper. I want you to tell me that I haven't been duped for the last thirty-some odd years. I want you to tell me that the one person I have tried endlessly to track down hasn't been right under my nose day in and day out and I just didn't see it. Tell me – because I have never thought of myself as a stupid man, but if you tell me Clark Kent is really Superman then I just may have to quit right here and now."

What was I supposed to say to that? "Uncle Perry," I started slowly, "if you think you're an idiot or you're stupid or you've been duped… then you should realize that I was, too. Because I didn't see it either."

He squinted at me. "So you're saying it's true?"

I nodded wordlessly.

He whistled out a long sigh. "I've been waiting for the perfect headline to end my career with."

I snapped, "You can't publish—"

"And now I have something that any other editor from any newspaper would kill for."

"Uncle Perry!"

"And I can't say a word."

I licked my lips. "What?"

"I can't say a word. I _won't_ say a word."

My breath hitched as I waited for him to continue.

"I made a promise to Richard not knowing what it would cost me, but it's still a promise. I made that promise to protect you when you were little. I'm going to take a wild guess that you have more in common with your old man than just good looks and wouldn't be in much danger now were I to say anything. But you have a little one of your own now… and even though I never had any kids, I'm not such a rat bastard that I don't understand the need to protect them. So, the promise stays." He thumped my shoulder and gave me a nod. "The promise stays."

"Thank you," I said quietly.

He patted my shoulder again before opening the door to his office and signaling for me to go. Yet before I could get all the way out of the room, he called me back. "Jason?"

"Yes?"

"Tell Clark to come in here."

I swallowed.

"Superman owes me one hell of an exclusive."

Uncle Perry got his wish along with a photo of Superman shaking his hand at his retirement party worthy of the front page. Perry White would not only be known forever as one of the longest serving and influential Editor-in-Chiefs of a newspaper, but also as the only Editor-in-Chief who could honestly call Superman a friend.

As if worrying about Jimmy and Uncle Perry wasn't enough for me to take on, I also had to deal with the stress of watching my parents plan a formal wedding in a whirlwind rush. They set a wedding date of February ninth, which gave them a little over a month to actually plan, announce, and participate in a wedding. I was also set to perform in the Valentine's Romantic era concert, which left my mind and my schedule being pulled in two directions. I asked them to wait until after Valentine's Day for my sanity's sake, but they were dead set on the ninth.

Somehow, we got through it. With Clark misplacing the rings and Mom nearly having a panic attack over the fact that Clark wouldn't tell her where they were going on their honeymoon, I was ready for something to go horribly wrong. To my pleasant surprise, the wedding went off without so much as a hitch.

And that made me worry more than ever. It nagged at my gut all the way home from the reception and still nagged at me as Kate and I crawled into bed.

"You okay?" she asked, sliding her arm over my stomach.

"I'm… fine."

"Liar."

I turned my face to look at her. "No, really. Everything's… great."

"Then why have you been so distant tonight?"

How could I explain it to her? I couldn't even really pinpoint the problem for myself. "It's… perfect. Everything is pretty much perfect."

"And that's a problem?"

I shrugged. "Yes. For me it is. I have everything I've ever wanted, Kate. I have a career that some people would kill for. I get to do what I love to do and be paid fairly well for it, and I'm allowed room for growth. I have a wife who is the most beautiful, most understanding woman I have ever met who loves me more than I could ever hope to be loved. We have a son who is bright and strong and has filled my life with joy. And then today… my mother married my real father, and I was allowed to actually tell people he was my real father." I paused to take it all in. "If ever I had a plan or a dream for my life, this was what it would be. I couldn't ask for anything more."

"Why does that upset you then?"

"Because I know something is going to happen to change it. Something – at some point sooner or later – is going to happen to mess up this perfect moment. And that scares me. I've never been at a point in my life where I could honestly say I wouldn't change anything. There has always been chaos in my life, but not today. Today things are very peaceful. Now that I'm here, I'm terrified of what is around the corner."

"Let me see if I understand you correctly," she said, rolling onto her back and taking on a very analytical voice. "You are unhappy because you are too happy. You would feel better if you had some chaos to mess things up rather than just living a normal, happy life."

"Yes, exactly. I need chaos - something messy." I considered it a moment. "I think I thrive on mess, to tell you the truth."

"But just because something is messy doesn't mean that it's bad. Take your mom and dad, for example. Having the two of them suddenly announce their engagement was sort of messy, but in the end it was a good thing."

"True, but it was still messy and kept me on my toes. I start to worry when there isn't anything to really worry about."

She frowned at me. "You are very strange."

"You're just now figuring that out?"

"Okay," she nodded. "Chaos."

"Yes. I just would like to know what's next. What's around the corner that's going to change everything."

She hummed thoughtfully. "Come here," she said with a flick of her wrist.

"Where?"

"Put your head down." Her hand patted at her chest just above her breasts.

"What?"

"Put your head down and just close your eyes."

"Okay," I drawled, lowering my head to her chest. Taking her invitation to be something more intimate, I kissed the tops of her breasts.

She swatted at my head. "Stop. Just put your head down and listen."

"To what?" I asked, doing as I was told.

"Shhhh…"

"Is there something wrong with your heart?"

"Shhhhh…" she hissed more forcefully. "Just close your eyes and be quiet."

I relaxed against her body, draping my arm over her small frame. My eyelids slid shut as I was lulled by the rhythm of her heartbeat. Steady and strong – a sound I treasured and could find easily in a room full of people. Her breathing was just as even and calm, her chest rising and falling with each subtle breath. Eight heartbeats for every breath in and out.

And yet… there was something else. Another pattern. Something… distant. A separate rhythm infinitely more rapid and nowhere near as strong, but unmistakably familiar.

A second heartbeat that didn't belong to Kate.

In that next moment I came as close to flying as I've ever come in my life, for the shock of what I was hearing quite literally sent me flying up and away from Kate. I knelt next to her, looking down at her body in total wonder.

"You're pregnant!" I gasped.

She bit her bottom lip and smiled. "Surprise."

"When? How?" My brain was having difficulty forming any full questions.

"If you don't know how, then we really need to talk."

I chuckled and covered her flat stomach with my hand. "How – how long have you known?"

"A few weeks."

"A few _weeks_?" I gaped at her. "Kate!"

"I know how you feel about secrets, but you have been so stressed about the wedding and about your concert that I thought it would be one less thing for you to worry about."

"But you've been stressed, too. Running around for Mom and taking care of Eric and—"

"And I have been well taken care of. Your mother has insisted that I take a nap every afternoon."

I frowned at her. "Mom knows?"

She made a sad kind of a face. "I didn't have much choice. I nearly puked on her last week and she tried to shove Pepto Bismol down my throat. I told her so she wouldn't think I was sick."

I slumped over a bit, feeling a little badly about the whole situation, but still in awe of the miracle of it all. Then Kate tossed out another blow.

"And your dad knows, too."

"What?" I snapped.

"He figured it out while we were dancing tonight. He heard the baby's heartbeat. It's kind of how I decided on how to tell you."

I shook my head in partial amazement and anger. Amazed that this was happening – angry that I hadn't heard the heartbeat sooner myself.

"I'm sorry I didn't notice. I – I can't believe that I didn't notice," I said, slowly lowering my head to rest on her stomach so that I could clearly hear the life growing inside of her.

She wove her fingers through my hair. "No need to apologize. I did a really good job of keeping you distracted from it."

The dual rhythms of the two heartbeats thumped together in a synchronous pattern. I pulled up the hem of Kate's t-shirt so that I could kiss the skin of her belly and then replaced my ear against her body. We stayed like that for a good while, me just listening to the hypnotic heartbeats and her playing with my hair.

"How far along are you?" I asked quietly.

"About eight weeks."

I did the math and then leaned up a bit to look at her. "Christmas Eve?"

She giggled. "That was a fun night."

"Very fun. And… rather productive."

"Looks like I got more than just a necklace for Christmas this year."

"Looks like it. And here I spent money that I didn't need to spend!"

She pulled me forward and kissed me. "Is this chaotic enough for you?"

"It's… perfect." The grin on my face probably made me look silly, but I didn't care.

The goofy grin stayed on my face for a few days and burst into full bloom every time I told someone Kate was expecting. It wasn't until Eric asked another one of his innocent and deeply poignant questions that the full weight of everything started to dawn on me.

"Will my brover or sister be special wike me? Wike Gwampa Cwark?"

"Yes," I said as calmly as possible.

"Did day speak Engwish on Kwipton?"

The non sequitur had me confused. "No."

"How do you say baby in Kwipton?"

My stomach plummeted. "I don't know."

"Didn't Gwampa Cwark ever teach you?"

As usual, I looked to Kate for support, but she only gave me an "I told you so" look.

Wanting to avoid telling my son the nasty details about my past history with my father, I told him that I hadn't had a chance to ask him yet, but that I would find out the answer to his question soon enough. That led to me posing the question to Clark about a week later over one of our casual lunches. His fork stopped midway to his mouth in shock.

"Why are you asking?" he said after a moment.

"Eric wants to know."

His face fell in disappointment, "Oh, I thought maybe you wanted to know."

"Well," I said, drawing out the word as I sat forward, "I do kind of want to know."

Only his eyes lifted to look at me. "You do?"

"Yeah, I do," I answered without pause. "If you were from another country, I'd want to know something about the language… the culture."

His gaze narrowed in on me, but he didn't say anything.

"So, will you teach me?"

"Teach you what exactly?"

"About Krypton – the culture – the language."

He put his fork down on his plate and sat way back in his chair to stare at me. "Who are you and what have you done with Jason White?"

"That's not funny."

"I didn't mean it as a joke."

Feeling more than slightly intimidated by his stare, I said, "Look, it's something I realized when Eric asked me about it. I blamed you for not sharing things with me for so long, which made me feel like an outsider. And now you've given me the opportunity to learn about your home and I have turned you away. So when Eric asks me to share with him what I know, I can't do it, which potentially puts him in the same place with me as I was with you. I don't want that. I don't want him to think I'm keeping anything from him. I want him to know. And no offense, but I don't always want him to have to go to you. I want him to come to me. For that, I have to come to you. So, I'm here now asking you for this."

The corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly. "Aos. But that's if you mean baby in a general sense. It changes depending on gender and your relationship to the baby."

"There's more than one word for baby?"

"Sure."

With that one simple word I began my education in Kryptonian. It wasn't easy, not by a long shot. I had to learn the symbols and the phonetics and grammar. Oh, the grammar! With a new alphabet to work with, it wasn't like learning German or Spanish, but rather like learning Chinese. It was slow going since there was only one person who could help me and his schedule was just as busy as my own. It wasn't as if I could run down to the library and check out a book on the subject, either. In all the books published about Superman, only one even attempted to make sense out of the few Kryptonian symbols the general public knew about. Yet whenever we were alone, Clark would slip a few words into our conversations, and he would drop off some guides he had written up from time to time. "Study guides", he called them, which made me feel like I was back in high school.

About six months into my education, I found myself reluctantly being whisked off once again to the northern Fortress. Clark insisted that there were things I could learn at the Fortress that he simply couldn't put on paper. I hated to agree with him, but he was right. I'd only been up there two times and I knew there was a vast amount of information to be learned. When I said I wanted to learn about Krypton, part of me realized that I was basically opening the door to spending time up north.

When we arrived at the Fortress this time, I didn't have the total sense of dread that I'd had last time. I recalled the wonder I felt the first time I saw the magnificent spectacle and took in the magnitude of the structure. The building still left me with such feelings, but those emotions were plagued with the memory of the horrid things that were said to me – _about_ me – by a man I was expected to accept as my grandfather.

Trying to calm my jittery nerves, I said, "Still white. Still cold. This place doesn't ever change, does it?"

Clark turned to look at me with an odd expression. "I have something I need to show you that just might make you feel differently." He took a few steps toward the central control panel.

My heart raced. "I thought you had something you wanted me to read. Like… in a library."

"I do." He was still walking towards the crystals.

"Then where is it?"

He turned to look at me again. "It's here," he said indicating the crystals.

I swore under my breath and rolled my eyes.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing," I lied. "Just tell me you're not going to make me listen to Jor-El again. I'll listen to anything but him."

Clark frowned. "I do need you to hear him just once more, Jason."

"No way," I said quickly. "When I came with you, you said you had things for me to see – to read – that you couldn't put on paper! You didn't say anything about Jor-El."

"I can't show you want I need to show you without my father's help."

"But he's—" I growled and roughly ran a hand through my hair.

"He's what?"

"He's a jerk! He doesn't like me!"

"That's not true. He didn't know who you were."

"He called me an abnormal hybrid! He said you weren't supposed to have relationships and that you were infinitely superior to humans! He was pompous and rude and I have no desire to ever talk to him again!"

Clark waited a beat for me to settle down. "If you're through yelling at me, I would like to explain something that I have tried to explain for years."

I huffed and flopped down on one of the steps. "Whatever."

"You're acting like a child, Jason."

"Well, I was a child when you first brought me here to be told that I shouldn't have even been born!"

"That is not what my father said. No one has ever said that to you."

I bit back my retort because I could tell I was making him very angry.

"When I was about twenty years old and finding out who I was and where I was from, I asked the same questions that you asked all those years ago. I asked if I could have a family, and I was told that it was impossible for me to have a child with a human—"

I made a face at him, but he kept going.

"— because my DNA was incompatible with human DNA. My father told me this with much sadness because he knew what it was to want to be a father, and it hurt him to have to tell me that I would never have that."

I cocked an eyebrow at him. "But he was wrong."

"Yes, he was. He was basing his information off of what Kryptonian scientists had observed from Earth. Not one person from my planet had ever come face-to-face with a human. It was all speculation and hypothesizing. It wasn't fact."

"Fine. You admit that he was wrong. At least that's something." That much made me feel a little better.

"When I found out about you, I came here to talk to my father about you and I was told the same things over again – the same things you heard. I argued with my father about you. I did everything I could think of to make him understand that his hypothesis was incorrect, and I came up short." He picked up the large crystal – the one I knew and feared. "So, I had to convince him another way. It took me a long time to get it right, but I had to do it… for your sake."

He slid the crystal into place and the giant, translucent face of Jor-El came into focus. I cringed and hugged myself, refusing to actually look at the floating head that I despised so much.

"My son," that voice said, and a chill ran down my spine. "You do not remember me. I am Jor-El. I am your father. By now, I will have been dead many thousands of your years. You are the only survivor of the planet Krypton. Imbedded in the crystals before you is the total accumulation of all literature and scientific fact from dozens of other worlds, spanning the twenty-eight known galaxies. There are questions to be asked. Here, in this Fortress of Solitude, we shall try to find the answers together. So, my son, Kal-El, speak."

What happened next took me by total surprise. Clark answered Jor-El in Kryptonian. The whole conversation played out in nothing but Kryptonian. I sat open-mouthed as I listened to my first fully Kryptonian dialogue, trying to pick up a few words and finding it much more difficult to decipher than I'd ever expected. I could only pick out a word here and there. Father… son… mother… and a reference to the House of El.

The conversation was brief, but whatever Clark said to Jor-El made him smile, which softened his face somewhat before he vanished completely. Replacing his image was a host of Kryptonian symbols. I looked them over and determined that they were names. Jor-El… Kal-El… Lara. Mostly names I recognized with a few that I didn't. All members of the prestigious House of El from Krypton, I gathered.

Clark again spoke in his native language and Jor-El's voice responded, echoing through the Fortress. However, unlike other times when Jor-El sounded so confident and sure of himself, this time there was uncertainty in his voice. I picked out the words son… earth… mother… human… name… family. My body shivered involuntarily when I heard them both say the word human. I wasn't sure what they were talking about, but I had a feeling I wasn't going to like it. I knew how Jor-El felt about the human race.

Suddenly, the symbols floating in mid-air flashed and adjusted. The light was so bright I actually had to squint to look at it. When the light dimmed, I saw that there were new symbols listed at the bottom – symbols that spelled out another name I didn't recognize.

Clark turned to look at me, a joyous expression lighting up his face. He wasn't smiling the wide grin that normally came with Clark Kent. This was more peaceful and substantially more potent than any simple smile I'd ever seen from him. Whatever had just happened delighted him deeply. In fact, I don't think I'd ever seen him look as happy or as proud as he did right then, not even when he married my mother.

"What do you think?" he asked me.

I frowned, "Of what?"

"Of all this!" He indicated the symbols, looked back at me, and then broke out into that all-too familiar Clark grin that I'd sensed would appear sooner or later.

"What is it?"

His face fell. "What is—? What do you mean what is it? Don't you understand it?"

I stood up and walked forward. "Um… a little. They're just names, right?"

The sparkle returned to Clark's eyes. "Yes. Can't you read them?"

"Jor-El… Kal-El…" The bottom name was still unfamiliar. "Who's Son-El?"

Looking me directly in the eyes, Clark said, "_You_."

The full measure of that one word made my heart skip a beat. "_Me_?"

"Yes," he said, smiling again. "This is the genealogy of the House of El. You see my grandfather's name, my father's name, my name, and now I have added my son's name. You. Something I should have done years ago."

I stared at the name at the bottom of the list. Son-El. Me. My name. As foreign as it sounded, it represented me. "What does it mean?" I mumbled.

"I couldn't find a name in our family history that I thought fit you, so I had to find a new name. I thought about using a "J" at the beginning for "Jason," but I didn't like the sound of Jas-El or Jay-El. Also, I figured that anything that started with a "J" would make you think of my father, and I know that you don't hold him in the best regards."

"Right," I sighed, feeling ever so slightly guilty about my opinions towards Jor-El for the first time.

"So I shifted my focus from the start of your human name to the end. Ja-SON. Son-El." He smiled that small yet exuberant smile again. "I thought it was fitting that you would forever be known as my son, both in Kryptonian lineage and by using the English language in your name."

I kept staring at the letters of my name, permanently etched in the Kryptonian records of the House of El. My house. My family. My history.

Then I realized something very important. "What about Eric?"

"What about him?"

"Shouldn't he be up there? What's his name?"

"Well," Clark shrugged, "he's _your_ son, Jason. _You_ should name him."

I gaped at him. "But I don't know any Kryptonian names? I don't even know that much about Krypton."

"I thought that's why we were here – so you could learn more about the language and culture."

He had me there.

"And I think it's high time that you came to know your grandfather for who he really is."

"I… um…"

Before I could protest, Clark was addressing Jor-El once again, but this time he did it in English. "Father, I would very much like for you to meet my son."

The symbols vanished and Jor-El's face reappeared before me. The hate I'd felt all these years mingled with the fear of a child who had been told things about himself no child should ever hear and left me frozen in place.

"Son-El," his voice boomed. "Born to my son, Kal-El, on the planet Earth. How many of your years have passed without my knowledge of your existence?"

I looked over at Clark, waiting for him to answer his father. Instead, he nudged me forward and very softly said, "Talk to him."

I gazed up into the enormous, glowing face of the man who had once declared my existence an impossibility to find him subtly smiling down on me. Finding my voice, I said, "Twenty-eight… I guess. But I spoke to you once before."

Jor-El's head moved to the side in a show of slight confusion. "When have we spoken, Son-El?"

"Jason," Clark said quietly, stepping up next to me, "he thought you were me when you talked to him. He won't remember your conversation."

"Then how can he know who I am now?"

"Because I reprogrammed the sun crystals." He said it so matter-of-factly that it took me a moment to really comprehend what he had done.

"You changed him?"

"Not change him, per se. He still has the same personality. I simply made it so he could accept new information that he hadn't been able to accept previously."

"Like… my birth?"

"Exactly. The crystals have the capacity to adapt to new information so long as it is within the realm of expectations that my father could foresee. He knew I would get older. He knew I would have difficulties throughout my life on Earth. He tried to anticipate every question and change as it would come. But when it came to you – to having a child – the program only went so far as to tell me it was impossible. I reprogrammed the crystals to accept you as a possibility, keeping intact everything my father had learned and hypothesized, but allowing for the fact that those conclusions could be wrong. And obviously they were wrong."

"It was my belief that a human's genetic code was incompatible with that of a Kryptonian's," Jor-El said, drawing our attention up to him.

"I think he heard us," I whispered.

"Forgive us, Father," Clark said. "I was just explaining to Jason how it was that you could communicate with him now when you couldn't several years ago."

"And forgive me for not having the foresight to realize that scientists are often proven inaccurate in their assumptions," Jor-El replied. "I must say that of all the conclusions I have drawn about your time on Earth, Kal-El, this is one about which I am pleased to be proven incorrect."

"So am I, Father."

Jor-El's head tilted again. "You referred to your son as Jason – or am I, once again, mistaken?"

"You are not mistaken. Here on Earth, my son goes by the name Jason White, much the same way that I am known as Clark Kent."

"What is your occupation on Earth, Son-El?"

I gulped back the nerves that still spread through my body when he addressed me. "I'm… um… a musician. I play the piano."

"He's a brilliant musician," Clark corrected. "One of the most talented on the planet."

"I wouldn't go that far," I mumbled.

"Do you share your father's abilities?" Jor-El pressed.

"Some of them."

"Superhuman hearing?"

"Yes."

"X-ray vision?"

"Yes."

"Speed and strength?"

"Yes."

"But given the fact that your mother is human, one must conclude that your cellular structure is such that you cannot defy the Earth's gravity."

"No, I can't." I shrank back a little, unable to repress the feelings of inadequacy whenever my inabilities were discussed.

"It makes me curious," he paused. "Were you ill as a child?"

"A little, yeah."

"I imagine that your human DNA interpreted your Kryptonian DNA as a foreign substance that should be destroyed. Likewise, your Kryptonian DNA possibly struggled to dominate those aspects that were more human. It must have been a great challenge growing up between two worlds, unable to fully live as one or the other."

"It was," I replied in astonishment.

"And yet you have overcome whatever challenges were placed in your path. You are a fully-grown, mature adult with great strength, physically and also emotionally, no doubt. I can only assume that your strength in overcoming the difficulties of your very existence is what defines your very character."

Too stunned to reply, I simply shrugged. I wouldn't ever say that I had a great strength of character, but I wasn't about to correct Jor-El when he was actually saying kind things to me. Never in a million years had I ever expected something like this from him.

"Father," Clark interrupted, "I have begun teaching Jason about Krypton. It would be helpful if he could have access to whichever files he needed from now on so that he could learn at his own pace and not be dependent upon me for his education."

Jor-El's brow furrowed. "You have only _now_ begun teaching your son about Krypton?"

Clark wet his lips. "It's been a very rough journey getting here, Father. When you suggested that Jason had a difficult life, you were more than right. There were so many things that weren't done correctly. I made so many mistakes along the way. That's why it's taken us so long to reach this point."

"The most important relationship you will ever forge, Kal-El, is that of being a father to your son. Speaking as a man who did not have the opportunity to watch his son grow into adulthood, I envy you the time you are allowed with your son. I would have thought that you, of all people, would have respected that relationship to the utmost of your ability."

"Father—"

"He did," I blurted out. "He did respect the relationship."

"Jason—"

"No, listen to me," I turned to Clark. "If you're going to tell him, at least tell him the truth. Don't try to cover for me." I redirected my focus on Jor-El. "We got off to a shaky start, that much is true. He wanted to protect me, because you see, I'm not invulnerable like him. Fill me with enough bullets and I will die. I could have easily been used against him, and for that reason he wasn't a part of my life the way most fathers are."

Beside me, I felt Clark slump in personal disappointment.

"More than that, I wasn't the easiest child to get along with," I continued, directing what I had to say to Clark now rather than Jor-El. "I made things very difficult for him. I did and said things that I am not proud of, but I can't change the past. I can only assure you that I'm trying every day to make things right… and so is he."

I turned back to Jor-El. "You're absolutely right in saying that the most important relationship is that between a parent and a child. I know that now because I have my own son. I want things to be better for him than they were for me. I have learned from all these mistakes, and it's my intention to move forward rather than look back. So please, don't blame my father for everything that has happened. No one is perfect in all of this. Not him, not me… not even _you_!" I pointed up at him. "The things that you said to me when I was younger only added fuel to the fire in my relationship with my father."

"Whatever passed between us," Jor-El's voice reverberated, "I am deeply sorry for any misunderstanding. I would never intentionally be cruel to my own flesh and blood."

Whatever emotional momentum I had gained in my momentary outburst was wiped away completely. The reminder that we were of the same flesh and blood was one that left me speechless and awestruck. Even though the apology was a simple one, I found it nearly impossible to doubt the sincerity in his eyes.

"I have made mistakes, Father," Clark stated, "but we are here now, and Jason wants to move forward with his education."

"Then let us proceed."

I held my breath for a moment. And then my breath left me as I started to learn… everything.


End file.
